


The Liquid Engineers

by ClockworkCourier



Series: The Liquid Engineers 'Verse [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Laboratories, M/M, Size Kink, Titan!Eren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 65,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkCourier/pseuds/ClockworkCourier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TF-1505 is one of the largest Titans ever captured by the Trost Testing Facility. Armin just happens to be the fifteenth researcher assigned to observe him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, yep, my first actual SNK/AOT fic, and it's a ridiculous AU forged in a conversation about Titan!Eren between my friend Sam and I. This just happened to be AU idea I settled on, and yeah, it's a long shot for me! I hope you enjoy it, since it's fun as hell for me to write. :D

The facility was far better than anything Armin was used to. It really was a wonder, considering all the updates in technology and research that had been done over prior years. Even though there were places like this, with security measures like keypads and thumb scans, and containment areas that he was certain his last director would have been jealous of, other facilities were practically dungeon-like in comparison. They were dark, dank places, typically made of some kind of thickened brick made for the sheer purpose of containing Titans, even though there were already at least seven different types of tempered glass and metal that served the same purpose.

Of course, he had to keep in mind that students were often given the lowest jobs in places like that, doing barbaric tasks like vivisections on Titans chained to walls or tied to crude wooden frames. The tests that were given the label of ‘social’ weren’t much better, involving what was essentially torture in order to get any sort of reaction. He supposed it was research as well as a way of desensitizing students so when they reached levels like this, they wouldn’t be stuck in the mental muck and mire once they studied Titans three times the size of the ones imprisoned at the older facilities.

However, even if that was the intention, Armin wondered if perhaps he just wasn’t strong enough for the end result. When he had been studying, performing all the needed tasks--however grim they were--he flinched and cringed, trying his hardest not to turn his head away when a gash was opened on rock-hard skin and blood oozed onto the floor. He had to pretend not to gag when he swiped the blood for testing, even as the stench filled the room. Even when he slept, he could sometimes hear the screeching and howling of Titans being prodded with white-hot iron stakes, just to see if they could indeed feel pain. The sound, even though it was distant now, never failed to make his stomach wrench, and no matter how hard he tried to forget, it was too difficult.

Regardless, desensitization must not have been the utmost desired thing to his instructors, as he still passed with excellent test scores and warm regards from several of them, most beaming in pride over his intelligence and diligence. His thesis papers earned him lauded comments, passed through the ranks of researchers, soldiers, and evidently, the government if his current position had anything to say for him. Only a few months after his schooling had finished, he had been called to the Trost Testing Facility, headed by a certain Director Levi. The man was oddly relaxed, if not a bit condescending, and where Armin had expected a lengthy interview for whatever position the director felt he could fit, he was instead silently assessed, his papers getting more attention than his actual presence, and then nodded to and given a stiff, curt welcome.

Armin wasn’t sure if the hiring process normally went that way, but he wasn’t one to turn down what would be the job opportunity of a lifetime. There were others in his class that ended up with jobs like field research, which had a higher mortality rate than he was comfortable with. Although working at a testing facility wasn’t exactly prime, there was still a thick pane of glass between him and any Titan he faced.

\-----

Subject TF-1505 had confounded everyone pretty soundly. He wasn’t the largest Titan they’d captured, although he did clock in at an astounding fifteen meters. He was just the least violent, and that was a shock in itself. Armin couldn’t help but read his file a few times through, just so he was sure he didn’t somehow hallucinate the details. 

It was all there, though. On the date of his capture, TF-1505 had shown minimum resistance, aside from a slight struggle to fight the ropes on him, though that quickly ended when a soldier fell out of a tower after the subject had yanked too hard on a certain rope. Instead of the soldier falling to her death, the subject saved her by extending his arm, so that she landed on the back of his hand. Of course, he was quickly subdued, and she was allowed to escape. Whether or not the rescue was intentional was a hotly-debated mystery.

TF-1505 hadn’t shown any violent tendencies even when he was placed in his confines. According to previous researchers, the subject just paced back and forth, pausing once in awhile to glance up at nothing in particular, and continue. He didn’t seem to need rest, either. Verbal attacks didn’t change anything, and the researchers were still hesitant to try anything physical on such a massive being. They began to wonder if TF-1505 was just mentally incapable.

As he looked over the log of previous researchers, he began to wonder if maybe TF-1505 was some kind of introductory thing in the facility, as if every researcher had observed him at some time or another. They came and went in quick succession, he noticed. Some had been frustrated, others bored, and a select few citing their reason for leaving as ‘unknown’. The Titan just seemed to be like a scientific revolving door. The worst part seemed to be that even with something so massive, and with such a strange past, hardly anything of value was gleaned from him.

Armin puzzled over this as he walked down the hallway to TF-1505’s observation deck. There were six of them in total, each on a different floor to observe the Titan at every height. The second highest, where Armin headed, would have him stand at the Titan’s eye level. His containment area was massive, so each deck was oval in shape, allowing the scientist to walk completely around the specimen, observing at every angle. Catwalks could be extended into the containment area for up-close observation, but these were rarely used.

Immediately, he noticed that the floor was remarkably empty. There weren’t many Titans at this height, he knew, but it still came as a surprise that there weren’t more scientists. Idly, he wondered if he was the only one here. 

He slid his key card down the slot, listening to a series of locks clicking into place before the door swung open. Unsurprisingly, the floor was empty and dark, the only light coming from the containment area itself. Overstuffed couches and chairs surrounded the container, an end table placed by each. To his immediate right, there was a panel of controls, handling lighting and temperature. A detachable remote rested below the panel, and Armin recognized it as the controller for the container. Gingerly, he took it and placed it in the pocket of his lab coat, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it much.

The container was massive. Definitely large enough for a Titan to move around in, but it certainly didn’t look comfortable. Of course, the facility was far from thinking of what would have been the best environment for their test subjects. As far as they were concerned, all the Titans would die eventually, be it by testing or execution in the end. There was no need to make them feel at home, if they could feel anything at all.

Taking a deep breath, he walked toward the containment area, wondering with a mixture of anxiety and excitement what he was about to see. First, he could make out a massive head covered in messy black hair, shining dully under the too-bright lights. The Titan was turned away from him, holding still despite the reports about his pacing. As Armin approached, he could begin to see all the muscles and nerve-laced skin, stretching endlessly downward. 

“You’re enormous,” he whispered, mostly to himself. 

His eyes widened when the Titan began to move, muscle rippling under skin, a faint creak coming from somewhere below as he shifted his weight. Armin was suddenly thankful for the thick-paned, unbreakable glass. Even if the Titan was non-violent, it wouldn’t take much for him to move the wrong way and shatter anything less sturdy than that. As the Titan walked, Armin could feel the floor wavering a little, which was a miracle of sound architecture, he thought. Anything less and the floor would collapse.

Slowly, TF-1505 turned toward Armin, or at least in his general direction. Armin was sure that the Titan didn’t notice the scientist was there at all. Either he didn’t care, or the theories were right and he didn’t know. However, the theories seemed to stop as soon as the Titan did. He paused, right in the middle of his container, his head low, his hair concealing his face. 

With a movement that looked outright burdensome, he raised his head. Enormous, dark-ringed green eyes looked him over, flickering back and forth, before he gave something like a deep sigh, steaming misting from his mouth. Even in that brief moment, it was enough for Armin to see something that he hadn’t counted on.

He had seen the eyes of Titans. They were sometimes glassy, unfocused, pupils shrunk down to pinpricks, or dilated to empty black discs. They never adjusted, never fixated on one point, never moved in response to action. This Titan, though, had the eyes of a human. They were focused, wide and lively in a way that other Titans could never mimic. They followed every tiny movement Armin made. When he moved his hand, the Titan watched, eyes alert, pupils moving and constantly adjusting with the changes in light.

“Ahh...” he said softly, leaning forward against the railing as though that would give him a better look. “So, you did notice me, at least.”

Oddly enough, the Titan snorted in the form of a plume of steam pouring from his nose. Whether or not it was an affirmation, or just a reflexive move of his wasn’t something Armin could decode. 

Regardless, Armin couldn’t help but gape, and watched as he craned his neck, returning the surprised stare as if trying to replicate it. When he leaned back, the Titan leaned in closer. There was nothing in his expression denoting the primal desire that Armin was used to observing. He was curious, and evidently had taken notice that Armin was surprised with him.

He knew it was a long shot to try, but he pressed himself close against the bars, trying to get as close to the glass as possible. “Can you... can you hear me?” he tried, then immediately chastised himself. The glass was far too thick, and even if the Titan did hear him, he couldn’t understand him, right?

Then the Titan snorted again, tilting his head upward. A reaction. He had heard him just fine.

“Can you understand me?” he tried, feeling a well of excitement growing within him.

A long plume of steam came from his mouth, and his eyes glistened. Verbal response be damned.

The clipboard and pen sat abandoned, and even though he knew he should be scrawling down notes, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from the Titan. ‘Abnormal’ was a restrictive term for him. This creature was magnificent.

His mind went a million places at once, the logical part of it going to experimentation and different types of observation he could now be capable of if the Titan was indeed as tame and responsive as he appeared. If he could get close to him, take samples without fearing for his life, it would be a miracle unto itself.

Suddenly, the door behind him opened, and immediately, the Titan turned away, resuming his Sisyphean pacing as if nothing had happened. Armin frowned and turned to see another scientist walking in. It was an older man, one of the researchers Armin recognized from when he had been hired. The man approached, looking at the container with a crooked smile. 

“First day of observation with this one, eh? Must’ve been fun,” he said, and Armin could almost hear the sneer in his voice. For some reason, it made him uncomfortable.

“Oh, uh.” He wasn’t sure how to respond. Armin didn’t want to be laughed out of the facility for seeing what he had seen. It felt as if he mentioned anything about a Titan responding to any stimuli, they’d make a mockery of him. He supposed it was best to research TF-1505 further before he said a word. Besides, there was some gleeful part of him that wanted to see that again, uninterrupted. “No sir, he was pretty boring to watch,” he lied, biting down on his bottom lip as soon as he said it.

The man snorted and shrugged with one shoulder. “Well, you and fifteen other researchers seem to have the same opinion. This one’s big, but he’s got rocks where his brain would be, if he ever had one.” He laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Anyway, just came to tell you that your session’s about up. We’ve got a short meeting in twenty minutes before you have to go to the lab.”

“Right. Thank you, sir,” Armin responded, inclining his head respectfully. 

The researcher left and Armin immediately turned back around, looking at the Titan who had paused again. Armin tapped on the glass, causing the Titan to glance at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” he said, a grin on his face.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought TF-1505 tried to smile back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I didn't expect as much feedback as I got in the past few days. ;A; You're all so wonderful and amazing! If I could personally hug each of you who left comments or kudos, I would! 
> 
> This chapter was one of two drafts I wrote, since I was so nervous about publishing either. I didn't want to be to cheesy, but I think I had to give in a little to my little shipper/Eren-loving heart in the end. If the aforementioned cheesiness isn't exactly your kind of thing, please tell me! ;w; I want this to be something that people enjoy reading. I also would like to hear what people hope happens in the story! I have plenty of ideas, but suggestions never hurt!
> 
> Ack, I'm rambling but I'm so excited and hjbvajbf KEYSMASHING IS THE ONLY EQUIVALENT TO THE AMOUNT OF LOVE I HAVE FOR ALL OF YOU. <3

Armin lied a lot that morning. He lied his way through a boring meeting, lied his way out of a conversation with a smirking intern, and finally lied his way through a probing observation from one of TF-1505’s previous researchers. Honestly, he just didn’t want to waste time. The scheduled session would only be an hour and a half, which seemed ridiculously short in comparison with how much time he wanted to actually spend. 

The night before, he had begun compiling a list of things he wanted to try with TF-1505’s newfound intelligence. There were things as small as motor skill tests, scaling upward to inquiries into Titan psychology. Armin believed that if he played his cards right (and with stealth), he could single-handedly open a new door into the study of Titans. Their anatomy, mentalities, and even in this case, personalities, could all be revealed by a Titan who had started off as what the facility thought was a useless endeavor. 

In the end, he resolved to keep it quiet even longer. The draconic methods of his schooling weren’t far enough back in his memory yet. He could vividly remember that any time a Titan would show an unusual activity, it’d be tortured into doing it again, or examined in the bloodiest way possible to discover what had caused it. Even though TF-1505 was massive, and could certainly hold his own, Armin didn’t want to put him in that kind of position. Of course, to show his research in the end, he’d have to say something, but he could wait to deal with those consequences. Right now, it was his time and his time alone. He’d lie hundreds more times if he had to in order to ensure that.

Relief spread through him when he got to the sixth floor, finding it, once again, mercifully empty. Really, he probably wasn’t going to be making very many good impressions on the people he worked alongside, keeping to himself like this. That didn’t bother him much, and he hummed quietly to himself as he unlocked the door to the containment area.

There was admittedly a part of him that had thought yesterday had been a fluke, that there was no way a Titan could respond like that, and it had all been coincidence. That part had also made him have a dreading sense that when he walked onto the observation deck, all he’d see was a Titan caught in mindless pacing. Luckily, that little traitorous part of his brain was quickly shut down when he walked in and TF-1505 jerked his head toward the door. 

Armin couldn’t ignore how bright the Titan’s eyes were, watching him carefully. As was the case the day before, his pupils changed in the light. A cloud of steam formed and dissipated near his nose, an action that Armin took to mean that TF-1505 acknowledged him. 

“Hello to you, too,” he said as he neared the glass. “I guess I should introduce myself a little more properly, huh? Seeing as how we’re going to be seeing each other quite a bit.”

The Titan huffed, inclining his head in a way that almost seemed like a nod. Armin gleefully took a mental note of it.

“And I think we should give you a name as well. TF-1505 is kind of a mouthful, and kind of impersonal, don’t you think? You’re too smart to be limited to a number for a name.”

That got a reaction Armin hadn’t been expecting. The Titan’s eyes widened and he held stock still. He didn’t look angry, which was a positive. There was just something unreadable in his expression, which was still hard to read with a face that seemed to be stretched so many different ways. It was as if he had been stunned, and Armin had to check the portable remote in his pocket to make sure that there hadn’t been some security perimeters he’d forgotten to turn off. With a sigh of relief at a blinking green light, he looked back up to see TF-1505 staring at him, his eyes fixated as though silently imploring him. For what exactly, Armin didn’t know, but he cautiously continued.

“You don’t... have a name by chance, do you? I mean, I didn’t think Titans had names,” he said slowly, watching TF-1505’s shoulders rise a little more with every word. It was an oddly defensive posture, and Armin didn’t know what to make of it. “I mean, you can stay TF-1505 if you’d like. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want.”

That didn’t seem to be the right answer. The Titan’s eyes darted back and forth, and Armin belatedly realized that he was confused. There was something in the suggestion he didn’t understand.

It couldn’t have been the concept of naming, could it? No, he didn’t think it was. TF-1505 had reacted to the idea in he first place, where he probably could have just stared blankly if he didn’t understand. Maybe he had just been called TF-1505 for so long that he didn’t know he could be called anything else. It was an odd theory, but it was all Armin could think of. At least he had something to work with if that was the case.

With that, he tried again, this time in a more concise manner. “My name is Armin Arlert,” he said slowly, gesturing to himself. “See, I have two names. I’m called by both, depending on who I’m speaking to. Another scientist might call you TF-1505, but that doesn’t have to be your name.”

There was a brief flicker of understanding in the Titan’s face, but it was chased with another look of confusion. However, Armin felt like that feeling wasn’t directed at him. It seemed broader, but also internalized. If anything, it was more than enough testament to his intelligence that he was even reasoning something out.

He seemed to reach some kind of conclusion with himself eventually. With a grunt, he inclined his head slightly, a posture that often meant conceding. This time, it just seemed to mean he was alright with whatever Armin was saying. 

“Right, so what kind of name to give you...” he muttered to himself, tilting his head as he looked at the Titan. TF-1505 returned the stare, tilting his head in turn. Armin couldn’t help but snort at seeing a fifteen meter monstrous-looking creature acting like a perplexed puppy. “You definitely need a name more unique than TF-1505. That’s a given,” he added, grinning at the Titan. The muscles near the corner of TF-1505’s mouth stretched back in a strangely mirrored grin, although the way he was doing it made it look like a grimace. At least he was proving Armin’s point.

An idea appeared in Armin’s head instantaneously, and he nearly smacked himself for not thinking of it sooner. TF-1505 certainly had knowledge of what naming was, and although the well of his intelligence wasn’t completely uncovered, there were multiple ways of helping to reveal it. Through a dexterity test, it wasn’t entirely impossible for the Titan to name himself. Farfetched, certainly. Possibly more reason for Armin to get laughed out of his profession? Absolutely. But not impossible. In fact, there was an unending amount of experiments and tests that Armin could do that wouldn’t be impossible with his subject.

He felt a rush not unlike adrenaline, his heart hammering in his chest, his smile widening. “Alright, I’m going to ask something of you that might be a little... ridiculous,” he said slowly. The Titan’s attention was rapt, at least. “I’m running on the theory that your intelligence is closer to that of a human than a Titan. For that matter, I’m not going to lie and say I’m not interested in what memories you might have, if you have any at all. I mean, you’re still a Titan and--” Armin was rambling, feeling his excitement starting to wane to anxiety. 

But TF-1505 was still gazing at him with dilated eyes, waiting for him to continue, listening attentively even through a barrier of glass. Armin couldn’t help but picture a human looking at him, imploring, all but outright saying that it was alright and what ever he had to say wasn’t probably that ridiculous after all. 

Armin took a deep breath to steady himself before speaking again. “I want you to make your own name. Or, at least try.” It already sounded outright mad as he spoke it, but at least it had been said. “I’m not saying that you have to say it, necessarily. But, you have some other means of communication, right? Like, signals? A code?”

Honestly, he was expecting the Titan to look lost. Surprisingly, he was just as attentive, and dare Armin say it, excited? There was the slightest glimmer in his eyes that Armin hadn’t seen before. 

Then, TF-1505 took a step to the side, away from Armin but not out of his sight. He still faced the glass, his back to the light. Slowly, he opened his mouth, his jaw gaping in a way that was frightening, that reminded Armin strongly of the bloodthirsty creatures he had experimented on in the past, and the bloodcurdling screams they often emitted. He thought that was what TF-1505 might do, but right when Armin was ready to put his hands over his ears, the Titan surprised him again.

He breathed out steam and fogged the glass. 

Not for the first time, and as he figured, not for the last, Armin gaped at him. He felt himself take in a sharp breath of air, bordering on a gasp, as TF-1505 slowly raised his right hand, index finger extended, and pressed it against the glass. His movements were clumsy, either because of the sheer extent of his anatomy, or simply because he was out of practice. Regardless, he moved his finger down, then horizontally, over and over and over until finally, in all its glory, the letter E was drawn in the steam.

It was too surreal, like a dream Armin might have had once. An intelligent Titan. A Titan with human eyes, simultaneously excited and exhausted. A Titan who responded, who mimicked, who seemed to feel actual emotions. And now, a Titan who could communicate. A Titan that could have very well have had a name.

Armin didn’t understand why, but tears burned hot in the corners of his eyes, and his throat tightened. “You...” he whispered, but any words beyond that dissipated like the mist on the glass was beginning to. 

TF-1505 gazed at him, hand still suspended in the air. He looked to Armin as if asking him, searching for some kind of approval, or even a reaction. What ever he was looking for, Armin was more than happy to show him.

“Can you... can you do that again?” he asked quietly, pressing his hands flat against the glass as he watched.

Steam fogged the glass again, and another shakily-drawn E. Then an R. 

Tears were flowing down Armin’s face by the time the fog began to disappear. He put his hand to his mouth, trying to contain himself. “Y-you have a name,” he managed, sniffing loudly as he wiped his eyes with his free hand. 

Muscles at the corner of the Titan’s mouth stretched back again. 

Disgusting as it was, Armin wiped his face with the sleeve of his lab coat, laughing and sniffling as he did so. Director Levi would probably pitch a fit over it, but Armin didn’t care. Once he thought he might be a little more presentable, he looked up at TF-1505. “S-so, uh. Is it Eric? Er... Erwin?” He thought of the head of the Research Association and laughed to himself, right as the Titan snorted in disagreement. 

“E... Eren?” he chanced, already failing at thinking of any more names.

He wasn’t expecting the Titan to let out a noise not unlike a victory cry. Or a laugh. Or what ever noise he made that was so jubilant that Armin almost wanted to make his own. 

TF-1505 was named Eren, and Armin couldn’t properly find a word for it to describe the emotion he felt at that. Overwhelming happiness, giddiness, and triumph all combined into something that burned in him like an ember being fanned. 

“Eren,” he repeated, louder this time, and began to feel the muscles in his face ache from smiling when TF-1505--Eren--smiled back in that hilariously strange way of his.

The rest of the day, and even long into the night when Armin lay awake, his mind racing with ideas and emotions that rampaged like rapids, there was one thought that stayed in his cycle of thoughts. If he hadn’t known any better, when the file for Titan TF-1505 was handed to him, he was being given a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was going to add an extra part here that would have been in Eren's perspective, but I thought that might have been pushing it a little. However, I'm not totally scrapping the idea of him having a P.O.V. part later! Just probably not this early on, heehhhhh.
> 
> Also, I'm not even kidding when I say there are like no names starting with 'Er-'. It was like, Eric, Erwin, and Erin. Just gonna pretend that in this universe, Eren is a more common spelling. OTL


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, again, thank you to everyone who left such wonderful feedback, either on here or on Tumblr. ;w; You're all so fantastic and eeee~ incoherency abooounds!
> 
> Speaking of, I do post these updates on my Tumblr, or even just little tiny things about the fic (or at least, I plan to, since I have enough trivial headcanon to sink a ship). So, if you're on there and feel like following me even if just to see me freak out over fandom things or cute animals, my URL is radiojamming.tumblr.com. 
> 
> And hurray, finally building plot! High-fives all around! :D

Armin found it more difficult than he anticipated to smuggle Eren’s file out of work. It seemed like the entire way out of the facility and back to his house was dotted by talkative researchers and curious onlookers. Everyone at work wanted to know how his dealings with their resident ‘mentally deficient’ Titan was going, and everyone on the street ogled at him, since he figured the best way to get the file out successfully was to hide it under his labcoat. At least now he understood the draw of briefcases.   
  
He managed to get the file home safely, hopefully not being suspected, even if he might have accidentally made a show of hiding it once or twice. When he sat down at his desk and opened it, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, he belatedly realized that he probably could have walked out of the facility, file in hand and obvious, and no one would have cared. As far as anyone knew, the Titan known as TF-1505 was a lost cause. They probably would have laughed at Armin and that would have been the end of it.  
  
“Oh well,” he sighed.

The file was about as lackluster as he had predicted. It was full of some off-handed comments, some sarcastic, some laced with a tone of frustration, and some outright demeaning. Most of the researchers hadn’t taken well to Eren, or maybe it was a vice versa kind of case. Now being aware of how intelligent Eren really was, it wasn’t a stretch to think that the Titan might have just not cared to react to someone screaming at him.

There were only two notes in the entire file that caught Armin’s interest. The first was from Eren’s capture, about the soldier that Eren had saved. He hadn’t noticed it the first time, but the soldier was named. A trainee at the time of the capture, Mikasa Ackerman. According to the document, she hadn’t been asked many questions following the incident, but from what was gathered, she didn’t seem particularly shocked by it. Armin jotted down a note to look into Mikasa’s files further, or maybe contact her to ask her about Eren.

The second note was written about a week into Eren’s captivity. It was written in messy handwriting, scrawled by someone who seemed awfully excited.

‘ _TF-1505 shows amazing resilience in his current condition. The tranquilizers wore off quickly after he was captured, and already, he’s shown a honed reaction to pain not often shared by others of his kind. Whether or not this is a case of his size is unknown, but will require further inquiry. TF-1505 also shows some reaction to command, though whether or not he understands it or is just stubborn remains to be seen._

 _-H. Zoe_ ’

Armin snorted at the ‘stubborn’ comment, since with Eren’s personality coming to light little by little, it didn’t seem so odd.

Alongside his note about Mikasa, he wrote down the researcher’s name, as they seemed to have more of a clue about Eren than their successors did. He hadn’t heard of anyone by that name in the short time he’d been working there, but scientists and researchers were shuffled between facilities constantly. Inquiring wasn’t going to hurt anything, though. He’d just have to run it by either the floor manager or the director himself to get an answer.

The rest of Eren’s file was plain, filled with one-sentence observations, typically detailing no change in the Titan’s behavior. Nearly every page was filled with notes about pacing, grunting, slight head movements, and little else. Some researchers had tried to elicit a reaction via verbal suggestion, which was a pleasant way of saying abuse. Armin was no stranger to it, but remembered how little of an effect it had on the Titans back in the old facilities.

Those memories changed the tone of the observations a little. Ten out of fifteen researchers had tried that approach, one even going as far as to attempt ‘physical persuasion’. All trials ended up the same way; inconclusive. Deflating a little in his chair, Armin realized that Eren had probably given up at some point. Months of these ‘experiments’, insulting, screaming, deriding, and at some point, torturing, may very well have caused Eren to choose to ignore them. It might have been an act of self-preservation, or maybe one of defeat. Either way, it made Armin sick to his stomach to think about.  
  
He began to wonder why Eren reacted so positively to him. He could have easily turned away from Armin, opting to ignore him instead of the fantastic reactions he ended up giving him. There was no way that a researcher hadn’t tried the calm, collected approach. There had to have been one out of the fifteen that had been kind, or at least decent to him. Even if there wasn’t, it still led back to the original thought: why him?

Eventually, he had to close the file, too frustrated with repeated accounts of inhumane research. Of course, there was probably a bias there now. Armin couldn’t say for sure that he wouldn’t do the same thing in someone else’s place, faced with a Titan that refused to do anything. Still, he couldn’t imagine treating Eren that poorly, even if all of his peers’ educational paths had been rooted in similar treatment.

With an irritated sigh, he took his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose where the pads of the glasses had left dents. There really wasn’t a way to make it up months of mistreatment to Eren. In the end, Armin was there for research, not to coddle a fifteen-meter creature or apologize to him. There were still experiments to be done, although he swore to himself that they would be as minimally invasive as he could manage.

There was one thing he could do in that moment. It was hardly rebellious, but Armin took his pen and crossed out ‘TF-1505’ on the folder’s leaf. Then, in careful handwriting, he wrote Eren’s name. It was simple, and maybe a bit petulant, but for some reason, it calmed him.

The rest of the night was spent coming up with experiments and theories. Each theory was written with such lengthy wording that they became less of an idea and more of an essay. Caught up in his work, fueled by a sudden burst of creative energy, he forgot to look at the clock. By the end of it, he fell asleep on his desk, left arm acting as a pillow, right hand still clutching his pen.

\---

Naturally, he was groggy in the morning. The walk to work suddenly seemed like a slow trudge through mud. He clutched the file to his chest, along with the stack of papers he had created throughout the night. Honestly, he didn’t care if anyone pointed it out. Luckily, no one did, but he figured part of it stemmed from the harsh, dark-eyed glares he sent when someone came too close. It was unlike him, since every morning otherwise, he’d been cheery and amicable. This morning, the only creature he felt was worth talking to was Eren, and partially because the Titan couldn’t really reply. It made for excellent company.

The night before, he had planned to speak to the director after Eren’s session was finished. Now it didn’t seem as likely, since Armin felt like he’d be a little too snappish at the director, and that wouldn’t earn him any points. Disgruntled, he slid his card to open the door, then muttered something unpleasant when the light blinked red and he realized he’d done it upside-down.

“I’m never doing an all-nighter again,” he murmured, righting the card and sighing when he heard the locks click into place.

Armin held the firm belief that this was the first day in recorded history where a Titan looked more pleasant than a human. Eren was already at the glass, eyes wide, his awkward smile in place, reminiscent of a dog waiting for its master. Armin managed a weary smile in return as he set the file on one of the chairs facing the container. “Morning, Eren,” he said with a half-hearted wave.

Eren let out a strange sound, not completely unlike a purr. It made Armin glance up at him, surprised. Then, he laughed, realizing that Eren was still getting used to hearing his actual name. His reaction was fantastically positive, and Armin felt proud that he had gone through with the test in the first place.

As he glanced over Eren, happily appraising the Titan’s pleased expression, a brief thought crossed his mind, carried over from brainstorming the night before. Eren had a lot of potential, both to himself and to the scientific community. Armin could easily do responsive tests, a few psychological ones, but that really was the extent of what he could do, and at that thought, it felt as if he would be selling Eren’s potential short. If all was as it seemed, Eren could possibly be willing to let Armin get close enough to inspect him, giving a closer look at the parts of a Titan that could only be examined on quickly-decomposing corpses, or heavily-bound, struggling Titans.   
  
He could get accurate temperature readings, examine his eyes, his mouth, give a detailed report of Titan kinesiology, even give a decent constructive response about the physics fueling a Titan. It was fantastical, he could admit that. But what more, it was _possible_. As long as Eren was as willing as Armin suspected, it could be done. Of course, not barring the grant that would have to be obtained.  
  
Even when Armin was a low-tier student, scrubbing mold-thick floors or vomiting over the smell of Titan remains, he knew how important research grants were. The government was typically very generous to the scientific community, as defense against humankind’s natural enemy was deeply rooted in years of intense research. However, even with how much different facilities could provide to their scientists, once in awhile, a project was so enormous that it needed an approved grant.  
  
Armin’s shoulders sagged at the thought. It was notoriously hard to get a good grant, and it meant more than ever that he’d have to go to Trost’s director and ask for one. Inevitably, he’d be subjected to interview after interview, and then Eren would have to be observed to determine if he was a suitable subject. Knowing Eren’s reputation among the facility, it suddenly didn’t seem so likely.

Except if Armin could prove it.

What ever fatigue he had felt earlier seemed to be slowly fading away as he thought it over, staring up at the massive Titan before him. Eren eyed him, still looking pleased with himself, but now with an added expression of curiosity. It made Armin grin, knowing that Eren could tell that the gears were turning in his head.

Armin put his hands on the bars, leaning against them the way he had done before in order to speak to Eren. “Eren, would you mind if another scientist came to observe you for a day or two?” he asked, and it wasn’t surprising when Eren’s pseudo-smile faded, his eyes narrowing. It affirmed what Armin had speculated from the file. His memories of the scientists were hardly positive.

“I’d be here, too,” he amended, watching as Eren leaned forward, as if telling him to go on. “It’s just to help me... and well, you. I just need you to show someone other than me how smart you are. If you do that, I can help you.”  
  
What Eren needed help with, Armin wasn’t sure. There was just _something_ about the Titan that made him feel as though Eren was asking for it. The confusion over his name, the excitement when he heard it, the fact he had one in the first place. A creature like that couldn’t always be trapped in a container, mistreated to the point of possibly losing those unique aspects that made him Eren at all.  
  
Even though Armin didn’t know what it was, or if saying something about it would make Eren agree to it, Eren still lowered his head in a slow nod. There was something unspoken there, which made Armin desperately wish Eren could speak. What ever he was trying to say, or was trying to communicate, made Armin sure that there was something Eren wanted. Through testing, and showing someone else that Eren was worth the expense, it was entirely possible that they’d learn what he wanted.   
  
After all, if there was anything Eren could do, it was making the impossible possible.  
  
“Thank you,” Armin said, sighing in relief. “I promise it won’t be anyone from before. I’ll make sure that they’ll treat you correctly. You just have to show them what you’ve shown me.”

\---

Armin had forgotten how uncomfortable Director Levi’s office was. It was too starkly clean, devoid of most colors except the typical cream, grey, brown, and white that seemed to adorn every office Armin had seen. All the furniture was exactly placed, looking as if it hadn’t been touched since it was purchased. Even the potted plants didn’t look natural enough. It was unsettling, and it hardly helped the anxious pulsing feeling in his stomach.  
  
That feeling, however, was rooted in how Levi stared at him over the rim of his teacup. His eyes were sharp gray, pupils narrowed to pinpricks, virtually the opposite of Eren’s widely expressive ones. It was an odd comparison, but given the situation, it was completely applicable.  
  
“Do you know how long you’ve been employed here, Mr. Arlert?” Levi finally said, his voice calm, too level to be assuring. It made Armin feel as if he were guilty of something.  
  
“A week and a half, sir,” he said quietly, finding the urge to stare down at his hands growing overwhelming.

There was a long, dominating silence. The urge grew, and Levi sipped his tea. “Indeed,” he said. “A week and a half precisely. Most of those I’ve hired have been here for six months at least. You’re the newest recruit, because we considered you exceptional.”

“I’m aware, sir,” Armin replied, cursing himself at how shaky his voice sounded. He really had intended for this to go better, and already it felt like it was derailing.

“And you already think it wise to come to me this early in your employment about something that you must be completely aware is a very serious request?”

He gave in and stared at his hands, folded demurely in his lap. “Yes, sir.”

Armin was ready for an angry tirade, for the flood gates to burst open and for his employment to be terminated in seconds. He didn’t expect Levi to actually lean back in his chair, taking another sip, sighing to himself before nodding in Armin’s direction. In fact, he seemed calmer somehow.

“I admire your courage on that front, Mr. Arlert, even if I think it’s a stupid idea,” Levi said. “You’re extremely fortunate that I have a tendency to entertain stupid ideas.”

If that wasn’t an outright affirmation in itself, Armin didn’t know what else could be. He returned his gaze to Levi, feeling that earlier excited energy from the prospect of the idea humming through him like a current. “I can definitely prove that it’s worth the investment, sir. All I need is another scientist, and I even have one in mind, if they’re still around.”

Levi quirked an eyebrow, imploring him to continue.

“A person named H. Zoe. They added something to Eren-- uh, _TF-1505_ ’s file that really does coincide with what I’ve already observed.”

It may very well have been the closest Levi could come to a surprised expression, as his eyes widened a fraction, his hand froze so that the rim of the teacup just barely touched his lip. Then, he cleared his throat and set the cup aside, covering his mouth with his hand. It took Armin a moment to realize that Levi was trying to conceal laughter. Of course, he didn’t make a sound, and he hardly moved, but in the seemingly miniscule range of expression he had, it seemed like any normal human would have been shrieking in laughter.

“Hanji, you mean,” he said, and Armin could hear the slight choked sound in his voice.

“If, uh, that’s their name, then yes?”

Levi cleared his throat again, this time shifting around to compose himself. “Mr. Arlert, I don’t know if you’re entirely aware of this. My position of director of this facility requires me to take on multiple responsibilities, to make sure that all of the work done here is of high quality, so that we may eventually win what ever strange war we have on the Titans.”

“I’m aware, sir,” Armin replied, although he felt like he was already missing something.

“It’s also my job to make sure that there’s no bullshit in here. And trust me, I receive plenty of that, and it’s a hassle to clean up.”

Definitely missing something, but it explained the overdone cleanliness. Armin just nodded silently.

Levi leaned forward on his desk, eyes narrowing, pupils shrinking down more if that was possible. His countenance gained a stormy look, and Armin for a moment feared for his life.

“If you want Hanji Zoe to observe TF-1505 for the sake of your research grant, you better damn well want it.”

Armin realized that the stormy expression was a warning. It was nothing directly aimed at Armin, or held against him personally. Levi wasn’t angry at him, or so much frustrated with his request anymore. There was something about Hanji Zoe that was causing him to act like a cat sprayed with water.

So, Armin took a deep breath to steady his nerves before nodding. For Eren’s sake, he figured, he’d put up with anything. “I do, sir,” he said, trying his best to add some air of finality to it.

More silence. Armin tried to ignore the too-bright spray of green of a potted plant in his periphery.

“Done,” Levi concluded.   
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeee finally got this posted! I'm sorry this took so long, but this chapter was a little slow-coming (and way shorter than I'd hoped, sob sob) in the making for reasons beyond me. Either way, I hope everyone enjoys it. uwu Thank you for the millionth time to all those who commented. I swear I'll get around to replying to everyone!
> 
> Also, for those who were wondering, in this fic, Hanji's dmab non-binary with female pronouns. I have more familiarity with it as far as writing goes (being non-binary myself, yaaay). ;w; I use this as headcanon anyway.

There was a two day gap between Armin’s meeting with Levi and when Hanji was scheduled to participate in an observation session. Although two days seemed short in retrospect, Armin’s anxiety over the whole thing made it seem long and tedious. It was enough that even Eren seemed to pick up on it.

The day after the meeting, Armin sat on one of the couches on the observation deck, staring down at Eren’s file as if there was something he was missing. He gnawed on his bottom lip until it became sore, then started biting at his thumbnail instead. If Hanji Zoe required that dramatic of an introduction, it really was only a small leap to assume that she (and Levi had mentioned ‘she’ with a quirked shrug, something else Armin didn’t quite get) was much more important than he had figured. Fortified by the fact that the whole thing had to be scheduled with a waiting period in the first place. In short, Armin didn’t want to make himself look like an idiot.

He went over what to demonstrate to her, although it was limited merely by what Eren proved he could do. It became a question of what would go over well, or what Eren would end up doing when faced with someone who wasn’t Armin. Then again, Eren didn’t seem to deviate much from his commands, so Armin supposed they were in the clear as far as self control. But what would she be impressed with?

Caught up in his thoughts, Armin didn’t notice Eren restlessly moving around until the Titan came close to the glass, silhouetting himself against the light and casting a shadow over Armin. When Armin finally looked up, he was met with gigantic version of a worried expression. It was almost laughable if the concern wasn’t so obvious.

“I’m fine, Eren,” Armin said with a grin, setting the file off to the side. “Just trying to figure out how to make you presentable to Hanji.”

As if on cue, Eren blinked quickly several times, not unlike someone batting their eyelashes. At least he had a sense of humor.

Armin couldn’t help but snort, which Eren replicated loudly. “Hey, if you do that, she might be impressed!” he laughed.

In reality, there probably wasn’t that much to worry about. Eren could do things that Armin considered miraculous. No scientist would be able to deny how fantastic it would be to learn from him, or to test a Titan without losing a subject or worrying for their own lives. All Eren had to do was prove himself, which Armin had no doubt he could do.

His eyes strayed to the control panel as soon as he had thought it over. The lights blinked back at him, half-taunting and half-tempting. Every switch and button controlled some aspect of the room and container, including the rarely-used catwalk. Other researchers had joked about the catwalks collecting dust over time, but Armin was suddenly possessed by the idea of using it. It would be an extraordinary show of trust, and the first real step in Armin’s systematic research plan.

He could feel Eren watching him as he walked toward the panel, and as soon as he flipped the switch for the catwalk, he could hear the machinery grinding along with a grunt of confusion. Armin turned to see Eren taking careful steps backward, eyes never leaving the sight of shifting metal as it extended from one end of the container before locking in place on the other side. Bars on its edging rotated upwards, clicking against each other as they formed railings on both sides. Once the mechanism stopped, Eren glanced upward, still confused, inclining his head questioningly.

Armin walked up to the section of the glass that served as the door to the walkway, his hand hesitating on the handle before turning it slowly. The change in temperature was immediate. The enclosure was far cooler than the temperature gauge had indicated.

“No wonder the steam was so prominent,” he mused.

Eren kept his distance, staring at Armin as the researcher made his way to the determined middle of the catwalk. Even when Armin stopped, Eren didn’t move a muscle. Undoubtedly, this was all foreign to him. People at this tier of the scientific community rarely approached a Titan without something or someone guarding them, and if they did approach at this proximity, typically it didn’t mean anything positive for the Titan in question. For that matter, no Titan had been calm enough to let someone come this close without trying to bite a limb off. Eren, in contrast, appeared nervous.

“You can come closer,” Armin said as calmly as he could manage. “I don’t think you’re going to do anything reckless, right?”

He didn’t know a Titan could ever look so conflicted, but even as Eren took a steady step forward, he seemed to want nothing more than to move back. Already, there was a note to be made about Titan body language. Eren closed in on himself, drawing his arms tight against his sides, his head lowered, his shoulders raised. It was a perfect mirror of human action, to draw in on oneself in order to seem smaller, or less threatening.

In turn, Armin couldn’t help but be in awe. “You’re... afraid of hurting me, aren’t you?” he asked, although there was no question that needed to be asked. Eren made it perfectly clear.

It was also a testament to self-awareness. Although it seemed less and less likely that Eren had ever killed someone, or even seriously injured a human, he was aware that it was possible to do so. He could recognize size difference, the sheer contrast in power between himself and a human counterpart. It scared him.

“No, you’re not going to hurt me,” Armin finally stated, deciding that making it sound like a question would make Eren doubt himself more. For Hanji to get a good impression from him, he couldn’t doubt anything. He had to be certain. “You’ve got better self-control than that, and you know it! I know you saved a soldier before, and you didn’t hurt her. You wrote your name for me! That takes a lot of control!”

He took a deep breath in, throwing caution to the wind as had been his motive for the past few days. For Eren to believe in himself as much as Armin believed in him, Armin had to put his own thoughts and instinct of self-preservation aside. “Come over here and put your hand out,” he said, trying not to make himself sound too commanding.

Another shadowed look of doubt crossed Eren’s face, but he finally walked over to the catwalk, taking steady, even steps. For a moment, he stood before Armin, his eyes fixated on the scientist. Then, he slowly lifted his right hand, tips of his fingers curled underneath the catwalk, pressing against the bend in the metal. The Titan knew exactly what Armin was going to do, judging by the anxious look in his eyes, the too-steady posture he was maintaining, as if his limbs had locked into place. However, he was doing it, even if he was apprehensive.

Armin managed to get over the railing with relative ease, overcorrecting himself as he stepped down onto Eren’s palm. He nearly fell onto his face, but stumbled enough to catch himself. He could hear a soft, low-pitched drone come from Eren, and he almost had to laugh over it. “No need to be concerned. I’m fine,” he affirmed, dusting his coat off to show how unaffected he was.

Once his stance was steady, he gazed upwards at Eren, prepared to take in the sight of the Titan at full-size. There was far more to take in than what he had seen from behind a thick pane of glass. At this range and angle, he could see deep red capillaries forming a complex network just under Eren’s skin. Beyond and below that was a wide array of different colors, ranging from the blackish-blue of a bruise to a jaundice-like yellow. Tendons flexed and stretched, even as Eren held still, to make up for the minute changes in his body. Even the steady rise of the bones in his wrist and hand were visible. He was far more fantastic than Armin had ever imagined.

The heat was the next thing he noticed. He’d been aware of it from when he had been a student, subjected to the humid conditions that followed a dissection, or the sweat that ran down his face when he came too close to a living specimen. The steam that had been consistently observed made it a reasonable assumption to say that a Titan’s internal temperature was above boiling point. Standing in a Titan’s hand, feeling the heat rise from the skin, it was more than certain.

Finally, he craned his head back enough to see Eren’s face. His eyes were just as bright and expressive as usual, never once straying away from Armin. Everything else about his face seemed to be a series of angles. The sharp edge of his nose, the points at the tip of his ears, the wide, interrupted line of his mouth with perfectly straight incisors and molars. Even with all those lines and bends, he somehow appeared more organic and natural in appearance than the strange human-esque Titans.

“Amazing...” Armin breathed.

With the kind of care that someone would typically reserve for the most delicate of objects, Eren moved his hand away from the catwalk, bringing Armin close to his chest. Beyond that, he didn’t twitch a muscle, opting to gaze at him with an unreadable expression. The warmth radiating from his skin was almost calming, like sitting outside on a summer afternoon.

Then, almost undetectable at first, Armin heard a soft, repetitive sound. It seemed distant at first, thrumming gently but audibly. It wasn’t distance muting it, but layers of skin and muscle.

Eren’s heartbeat.

For some reason, the thought of it, the prospect of the mere sound alone was enough to make Armin’s throat tighten. It wasn’t the same feeling he had felt when Eren had written his name. It was beyond that, reaching into some deep well of emotion that he didn’t believe he had ever touched on.

It was already impossible to place Eren in the label of ‘Titan’. He didn’t fit the mold that had been taught about in classrooms, shown in bloody demonstrations, and stated over and over in monochrome lines of print that Armin had always strained his eyes to read. There was no container that they could place Eren in that would suit him. All that kept him in this facility was his size, his simple resemblance to things that in reality, were nothing like him.

“You’re like...” he began, only to bite down on his lip. For some reason, it was difficult to say. It wasn’t because he didn’t know the answer. There was just some ingrained blockade in his head that honestly needed to be struck down for Eren’s sake. “You’re like a human in Titan skin,” he said.

That was the entire theory he had been poring over for days on end. Sleepless nights and piles of paper lent only to this singular idea. Perhaps he was just a Titan, abnormal in nearly every way, but as time went on, and the sessions got longer and more frequent, it didn’t seem as likely.

Eren just continued to stare down at him, although the confusion and anxiety was quickly fading. He let out a quiet sigh, and Armin could feel the heat on his skin. Cautiously, he reached out and pressed his hand against Eren’s skin, right over where his heart was. The flesh was almost unbearably hot, so much so that Armin wanted to pull his hand away immediately. He resisted, running his fingers over a prominent red line of a vein.

“Even if you aren’t what I think you are, I’m still going to treat you like nothing less than a human. I swear to it,” he promised.

All Eren did was hold Armin a little closer.

\---

The day before Hanji was set to arrive, Armin had fiercely coached himself on not being nervous in front of her. He’d gone over all of his notes meticulously, making sure nothing was left out. If it wasn’t for his last stint with staying up late, he would have combed over them a sixth time just to be sure.

Even though he had gone to bed that night with the full confidence that he’d be perfectly set for the next day, it didn’t help at all in the long run. He couldn’t force himself to eat breakfast, as his stomach was rolling in such a way that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to go into work. Regardless, he forced himself out the door, mentally berating himself the entire way for being a coward.

It definitely didn’t help that he sat on the observation deck in near-complete silence for a half hour, save for the occasional huff from Eren. For the second time since Armin had been there, Eren was pacing, except not in his typical mindless manner. He seemed to be picking up on Armin’s wariness and translating it in his own way. Armin watched him, staring over the rim of his glasses and frowning. “Eren, _both_ of us can’t be nervous,” he said, grimacing at how unsure he sounded.

Eren simply lifted his head, snorted once, and continued.

Finally, the lock on the door to the deck clicked several times before opening. Armin nearly tripped over himself to stand at attention for someone who was his superior, only to see her stumble into the room. However, she balanced herself out rather gracefully on one foot before breaking into the sunniest grin Armin had ever seen on a scientist.

Within seconds, she had darted across the room to grip Armin’s hand in a fierce shake that nearly rattled him. “You must be Armin Arlert! Levi’s told me plenty, and well, I kinda took a peek at your file! Not a whole lot, I promise. Just enough to know who you were and what you’ve done and what you’re doing now and-- wow, I’m rambling!” she went on excitedly.

When she let his hand go, she immediately went to the railing, grinning up at Eren. “And this Eren, huh? It’s been awhile!”

Eren turned around mid-pace to look at her, his eyes widening in recognition. He huffed loudly, steam coming out in a cloud.

It was as if Hanji had been given the best gift in the world. Armin feared that she’d completely vault over the railings and drop to her death.

“He understands me! You weren’t kidding about that!”

“No, he’s extremely responsive,” Armin replied, finally making his way to the railing while beaming at Eren.

Hanji whirled around to face Armin, her expression practically glowing in happiness. “Oh man, I’m sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself. Obviously, I’m Hanji Zoe. Usually I do preliminary checks on Titans when they’re brought into the facility. I got to spend some quality time with Eren here, before they kinda... well, dragged me out kicking and screaming, pretty much.” She said it like it was hardly a bad thing, and in fact looked a little sheepish while saying so. “I got a little bit excited over it, before they said I should just stick to my usual job.”

It didn’t seem unlikely in the least. Even if Eren had been much less responsive in the beginning, Hanji appeared to be the type to see every miniscule wonder in him. Then again, she seemed like the type to fawn over a mindless, slobbering Titan, regardless.

“Well, if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have decided to advance in my research anyway,” Armin returned, nodding in respect with a small smile playing on his features.

“Speaking of! I want you to tell me _everything_.”

Honestly, it seemed like there wouldn’t be enough to tell her. It made Armin wonder why he’d been so nervous before. Hanji hardly seemed picky about anything.

“He, uh... Well, where do I start exactly? There’s lots to say, even if I haven’t been around here for very often.”

Her glasses glinted in the limited light, and even Eren stared at her in confusion. “ _Everything_ ,” she repeated.

In the end, Armin did explain everything. He talked about the responsiveness in Eren’s eyes and the human-like quality of them. Even things that seemed so small like the minute mimics that Eren attempted seemed to make Hanji progressively more excited with every word. Then, he talked about Eren writing the first letters of his name on the misted glass, and he swore she was close to fainting.

“That’s unheard of! I mean, we’ve attempted to communicate hundreds of times, even with things like gestures or... pretty much any way you could think to communicate. For a Titan to know how to write, or even _think_ of a unique system of communication on his own volition...” She trailed off, staring up at Eren in wonder. “Do you think he could do it again?”

Armin didn’t want to be too proud, since pride wasn’t a positive personality aspect, but he didn’t mind being a little coy about it. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Silently, she stared at Eren, caught up in a moment that was completely between her and the Titan. It said a lot about her and her connection to them. Then, still quiet, she pressed her hand against the glass. “Eren? Can you write for me?”

Eren watched her, his head lowered, eyes slightly downcast, but attentive. He was listening to her. He moved to her right, just enough for her to still see him, and then repeated exactly what he had done for Armin before.

It was as if it was all happening for the first time. The cloud of steam fogged the glass, and one enormous, trembling finger worked an ‘E’ into the mist. Armin felt that same rush, that exact moment of emotion that made him believe in Eren to begin with. If that was what he was feeling the second time he saw this, he could only imagine how Hanji felt.

When he managed to tear his gaze away to look at her, he wasn’t entirely surprised, but felt he could understand. Tears ran down her face, her hands pressed against her mouth, her entire body trembling at the sight. She sniffed loudly before choking back a sob. “H-he can...” She couldn’t finish, finally giving in and crying. She moved one hand from her mouth to touch the glass right where the fog was beginning to recede.

“Amazing, right?” Armin added, no less in awe than before.

“Th-there’s not even a _word_ for this,” she responded, her voice shaking, but a wide grin working its way onto her face.

Armin waited for her to ease herself back into coherency. Eren watched her as well, and Armin could see his usual smile starting to form. He knew he had done well.

When she finally calmed down, taking off her glasses to wipe her face (rather noisily) with her sleeve, Armin took the chance he’d been waiting for.

“That’s not all he can do,” he said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the mixed angst-fluff train! Wooo! Also, yay, we finally have some strain in the plot. I know a few people were asking about it, or waiting for their to be some kind of oncoming issue. Well, you were definitely right. ;w; Truuust me, it'll be fuuuun.
> 
> And thank you again for everyone who left kudos and comments. You've definitely given me my own healthy dose of fluff. It's especially awesome because I usually go to bed right after posting chapters, and waking up to all these nice comments is always a great start to my day. Or, in my case, I start my day squeaking and rolling around in bed like an excited chinchilla. Thank you for everyone who managed to make me doubt my own species. :'D

Armin couldn’t help but grin as he watched Hanji’s eyes follow the catwalk as it extended. When it clicked into place, rails raising and locking, she finally turned to stare at Armin, her expression bewildered as well as excited.

“You’re... you have to be kidding, right? He just lets you walk in?” She didn’t sound like she doubted Eren. Instead, it sounded as if she was so excited by the prospect that she couldn’t believe what was happening.

“He does more than that,” Armin assured. “He let me stand on his hand.”

If Hanji wasn’t close to fainting, Armin couldn’t understand why anyone else would stagger dizzily toward the glass, practically twirling in place. He then noticed Eren watching her as well, looking amused as she stumbled toward the door. A mantra of ‘I can’t believe this’ was just audible above the usual hum of ventilation on the deck.

Her hand on the handle, Hanji took in several deep breaths to keep up some kind of composure before she made her way onto the catwalk. Armin trailed behind her, having a difficult time keeping his giddiness at bay. Everything was going perfectly, down to Eren’s behavior and Hanji’s ridiculous enthusiasm.

Hanji had just barely reached the middle of the walkway when Eren put his hand down just as he had done for Armin, his fingers gripping the underside. The Titan looked confident, which was unusual. However, there was also some underlying anxiety, which actually gave Armin some relief. Eren was still nervous about handling humans, which meant he was still going to try to keep himself under control as much as he could. He had forethought, which was incredibly promising.

“I can’t believe this,” Hanji repeated, her hands white-knuckled on the railing. Her eyes darted from Eren’s hand to his face. Gaping at him, eyes practically sparkling in the artificial light, she grinned. “And you trust me. That’s... I don’t know. ‘Amazing’ isn’t even a good word for this, is it?”

It took Armin a moment to realize the gravity of what she had said. Yes, Eren trusted her. Even after experiences that Armin couldn’t rightly imagine without recalling blood-stained brick and rusted manacles, Eren gave Hanji that small, pivotal section of his trust. That was something a Titan had never done, as far as Armin could remember. Titans hadn’t been intelligent enough to properly function around a human, let alone establish emotional connections.

“He’s a miracle, isn’t he?” Armin suddenly said, more to himself than Hanji.  
  
She nodded, her right foot stepping onto the lower bar. “Right when we needed one, too,” she agreed, hoisting herself over.

Carefully, she stepped down onto Eren’s palm, letting go of the railing as soon as she seemed steady. Unlike Armin, who had been nervous and clumsy about the whole thing, she was perfectly at ease. “Just as warm as I figured,” she noted, bending over to brush her hand over a section of skin. “Hotter than boiling point internally. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to breath out steam if he didn’t.”

Then, she blinked up at Eren, adjusting her glasses with her left hand. “Isn’t it a little cold in here for you, Eren? I mean, humans are most comfortable at what would be our room temperature, but you’re warmer than a furnace. This has to be _freezing_!”

Eren stared at her, his head tilted as he listened. He didn’t move his hand quite yet, but his arm was relaxed. Slowly, he raised his right shoulder up in what Armin recognized as a shrug. The gesture delighted Hanji who clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh, so it might not matter to you! I mean, you have such a _complex_ network of nerve endings, but your accordant sensitivity could be... well, _half_ of what it normally would be with all that blood! Then again, Titans can deal with exorbitant pain. Maybe it’s along the same lines?”

Despite how fast she talked, Eren seemed to be keeping up with her. He glanced down at his arm when she talked about nerve endings, then back to her when she continued. The connection wasn’t lost on her.

“And you _associate_! Eren, could you be any more perfect?”

As if he’d been preparing for it, Eren exaggeratedly blinked several times. Show-off, Armin thought, a wide smile still stretched across his face. He couldn’t ignore the swell of pride he felt, either.

\---

Hanji’s signature was almost unreadable, if Armin hadn’t made out the ‘Z’ and worked his way around from there. Of course, he stared at it in disbelief for a long moment, and in that time was able to focus on it.

“Y-you’re not going to stay another day?” he asked, doubt creeping into his voice. Behind him, he heard Eren snort, although Armin wasn’t sure why.

She grinned as she handed the paper over. “I don’t have to. I’ve definitely seen everything I had to see!”

He bit down on his lip, which he realized was quickly becoming a bad habit. “So, you’re alright with this?” he tried, for the moment believing that this was some ridiculously elaborate prank that the facility decided to play on him for being new.

Hanji laughed, and in the distance, Eren snorted again in a mimic. “Armin, you have one of the most brilliant opportunities ever given to a scientist. I’m going to be probably the last person standing in your way of achieving it,” she assured, reaching up and grasping his shoulder. Her confidence was practically tangible, and he couldn’t help but feel it as well. “If I could, I’d do this with you, but I have my job and you have yours. That and...” She turned to look at Eren, who was watching the two of them intently. “Honestly, I think he’d prefer you.”

The impact of that wasn’t lost on him. It struck him somewhere in his chest, filling him with a strangely warm feeling that intensified when he looked at Eren as well. Even silhouetted in the light, he could see Eren incline his head, as if he was affirming everything Hanji had said.

When he turned back to Hanji, she was still smiling at him. “And you think I can do this?” he asked quietly, lowering his shoulders.

“Without a doubt,” she replied. “Of course, I still wanna stop by and see how he is and how you’re doing. And I definitely want to see a few tests.”

“You’re more than welcome to,” Armin said with a laugh.

She lowered her hand and gave Armin the warmest smile he’d ever seen in a place like this. “Just promise me you’ll take care of Eren. He’s way more special than we know. He might not even know it yet.”

That made Armin jump a little, his heart racing as he thought back to the pile of papers on his desk at home. “Dr. Zoe, uh, before you leave, can I ask you something?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think...” His voice trailed off, his confidence slipping as he thought back to the theory that in retrospect, might have been more ridiculous than he figured. Even so, Hanji seemed like the type of person to never throw a halfway decent theory away. In fact, she probably came up with her own fair share of them. He took in a deep breath through his nose before continuing. “Do you think it’s possible that Eren might have been... human at some point?”

He anticipated a long, heavy silence, like what questions like that were usually met with. All he could think of was Levi with his cold, even stare as if he didn’t believe or disbelieve anything.

But all Hanji did was grin again, adjusting her glasses with her index finger so that the lenses gave a bare glimmer in the dim light. “ _More_ than possible,” she replied easily.

She left without another word, save for a quick wink and a swish of her labcoat. When the door shut, the locks clicking quietly, he was left with the heavy silence he had waited for.

\---

It took Armin a full day to muster up the courage to go back to Levi to submit the approved grant. Even when he was waiting outside the door, the paper trembled in his hands, and it took him a good minute to realize his hands were the ones trembling. He tried berating himself like he had done before, giving himself a mental talking-to while trying to mimic the voices of teachers he had had in the past. Stern as the voices were, it didn’t make Levi’s door look any less intimidating, even if it was just a barrier of wood and hinges.

“He’ll take it,” Armin whispered to himself, his heart hammering in his chest. “Of course he will. Hanji signed it already. And even he said that he was okay with stupid ideas!”

That didn’t work any better than the mental coaching.

When he finally walked into the office, he could feel Levi’s eyes on him, watching him like a hawk. Armin felt like he was a wounded animal, just dragging himself along and hoping he wouldn’t be seen. Silently, he placed the paper on Levi’s desk and sat down, pressing his knees together and tucking into himself.

Levi was naturally quiet as he looked over the form. He hummed to himself once before setting it in a tray beside him and folding his hands on his desk.

“Dr. Zoe told me what happened,” he said, no inflection in his voice whatsoever. Armin fleetingly wondered how someone could maintain a perfectly emotionless composure and _still_ terrify people.

“A-ah, she did?”

Levi didn’t nod, hardly moved a muscle in general. “I wasn’t too surprised to hear her tell me exactly what you’ve told me. Of course, she said it in a way more annoying manner than you did. I can at least thank you for being quiet.”

Armin cleared his throat again before nodding. “Y-you’re welcome.”

“I do have one piece of advice for you, before you get your grant.”

“Yes, sir?”

There was no change in atmosphere, not even a twitch of expression beyond bored complacency. “Everything that happens with this Titan stays between you, me, and Hanji. It doesn’t go beyond these walls or the walls of the containment area. Even your seniors aren’t going to know a damn thing.”

Armin blinked owlishly at Levi. “S-sir?”

“I’m saying, Mr. Arlert, that I’m giving you complete and total permission to _lie_ to your seniors, and to anyone else save for myself and Dr. Zoe. Is that clear?”

“Well, yes, sir,” Armin responded, staring down at his lap. “Just... Hanji said that Eren was a ‘brilliant opportunity’, and if he’s as much of a scientific miracle as we think, why can’t I say anything about him?”

Narrowing his eyes, Levi leaned forward. “You’re no stranger to this, I’m sure, but let me remind you what the average scientist does to Titans during the length of their career. Even ones on your level, even _students_ have dissected and maimed Titans in such a way that’s practically barbaric. And to them, it’s just science. It’s supposed to be progress, but the people who come into this field don’t care. They’re in it for the money and the bragging rights when they manage to slice into a Titan for the first time. Now, imagine those people, the ones you went to school with, and imagine them getting their hands on TF-1505.”

Armin didn’t have to imagine. Those images had gone through his head hundreds of times since Eren had shown him what he was capable of. He swallowed, fighting the urge to screw his eyes shut when he thought of the sickening crack of bone or the echoes of skin being torn from muscle. “They would do that,” he said, meaning it to be a question, even though it had already answered itself.

“Undoubtedly. Scientists aren’t prone to believe in miracles. You’re only truly fortunate when you encounter one very rare breed of scientist. That the likes of myself and Hanji, and very few like us.”

“So, did you believe me the whole time?”

For a long moment, Levi said nothing. He stared at Armin passively. “Yes,” he finally said. “I’m familiar with TF-1505 and his reputation. Of course, I’d believe Dr. Zoe long before I’d believe anyone else, which is saying a lot on her behalf.”

It wasn’t surprising, really. From what Armin had seen since he had started school and up to when he had been employed, most researchers and scientists were content in their position. There was money to be made, even if it meant that someone’s usual moral composure dissipated. It made sense that only those truly passionate would make it to the status that Levi had. Armin didn’t know much about Levi, save for what he had heard in passing, and what Levi was telling him now. However, his belief alone opened up a part of his personality that Armin hadn’t seen before.

The thought of it gave him a great sense of relief, just as it made him realize his true anxiety about meeting with Levi didn’t come from the man himself. It came from his growing protectiveness of Eren.

“Um, sir, can I ask you a question, then?”

Levi raised an eyebrow, a signal to continue.

“If something does happen to Eren-- That is, if someone else finds out about him and does something to him or tells everyone, what am I supposed to do?”

There was a flicker in Levi’s countenance, chased back into place by his typical expression. “I’ll have to do what I’ve sworn to do as part of my responsibility of director.”

“...That is?”

“I’ll kill TF-1505 myself.”

Armin gasped, much to his own surprise. “Why would you--”

“It isn’t a show of cruelty, Mr. Arlert. It’s my job, and it would be necessary. People are instinctually afraid of Titans, and one that acts like a human would be terrifying to most. It’s my responsibility to maintain this facility as well as keep up the public’s faith in our mission,” he explained. Even so, there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Sir, I don’t think I completely understand,” he returned, furrowing his brow at the director. “Even if it’s not Eren’s fault if something happens, he still has to die?”

“Let me explain it to you this way. These people, in the society we’re in as it is, are _afraid_ of progress. They want the status quo to remain as is. Scientists want to keep their jobs, as does the military. And I’m not revealing any secrets by saying that the government is perfectly content with the way things are. They’re not against shelling out grant money because they know that no one is going to make significant progress because there’s hardly anything to learn from the Titans we have now. It keeps the public at ease, and there’s still enough employment that taxes will just come right back to them. Now, where would TF-1505 fit in?”

Armin stared at the ground, his teeth grinding into his bottom lip again. He knew the answer now, just as he felt he’d always known it.

“With what’s been reported to me, the discoveries connected with him would shatter everything,” Levi concluded. “There’s a time and place for him, but it’s not now and not here. That’s why I would have to kill him.”

“You should have killed him when Hanji found out, if that’s the case,” Armin muttered, sounding far more bitter than he intended.

Another prolonged silence. Then, “Yes, I should have. But I didn’t.”

It made Armin wonder if Eren somehow knew all of this, and thus why he had acted like a typical Titan when faced with the other scientists. However, that just led Armin back to where he had started. Why did Eren trust Armin, then?

“Armin,” Levi said, snapping the researcher out of it. He glanced up at the director, noting the new sharpness in his eyes.

“Sir?”

“There’s going to come a time where we’ll need TF-15... _Eren_. That’s what I’ve believed. And that’s where your responsibility comes in.”

Armin stayed quiet, his fists clenched so tightly that he could feel his nails dig into his palms.

“Protect Eren. If you don’t want him dead, don’t give him a reason to be.”

\---

The research grant money came two days later, and by the time the slip for the account reached Armin’s hands, all he could do was stare blankly at it. He sat on one of the couches on the observation deck, flipping it over in his hand and regarding the numbers, even though he had read them so many times that they didn’t produce a figure in his head. Days before, he would have leaping in excitement. Now, it just felt empty.

All this progress, and the promise of more of it, seemingly for nothing. Humanity finally had an answer in its grasp, and it didn’t want it. It didn’t make sense, but then again, Armin hadn’t been raised to think like everyone else. He’d been taught to think beyond his borders, to entertain forethought and reason simultaneously. While everyone else was content with their lives, he wanted to move beyond his own. He remembered what Hanji said about Eren being a miracle when they needed one, but now he wasn't sure of that at all.

With a sigh, he set the slip next to him and ran a hand through his hair. On the other side of the glass, Eren grunted, watching Armin intently. Armin could understand why. One moment, Eren had been surrounded by excitement, and the next, everything had gone back to monotony. If he was agitated, he didn’t show it.

“Sorry, Eren,” Armin said quietly, pushing himself off the couch and toward the glass. The walkway had been extended since Hanji had been there, since at the time, Armin figured he would get more use of it. He let himself out onto it and sighed again. “I guess I got a little over-excited, huh?”

Eren grunted again, lowering his head so he was at a better level with Armin. He was confused, or maybe even a little concerned. It was hard to tell now.

Armin’s chest tightened, frustration finally manifesting as he clenched his hands on the railing. “People aren’t ready for this. They’re just happy being cooped up in here like cattle. You’d think after the death toll in the military, they’d _want_ things to get better.”

He rested his forehead on the bar, the cool metal a minimal relief against his skin. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream out all of his fury and rage, wanted to teach people why they shouldn’t be so content with being caged.

He was so occupied with his thoughts that he didn’t notice how close Eren had gotten to him until he felt warm vapor on his skin. With a tiny murmur of bemusement, he glanced upward, being met with bright teal irises. He almost yelped in surprise, reeling backwards a step before he got a handle on himself.

“Eren, what are you doing?” he asked with a nervous laugh.

In response, Eren moved closer, his eyes fixed on Armin with more intent than Armin had ever seen. Something told Armin that he wanted to come closer as well. He did, walking back to the railing and leaning over it a fraction.

Eren didn’t move, save for one slow blink.

Gingerly, Armin extended his arm, fingers brushing over the skin on the bridge of Eren’s nose. He was warm, of course, but not entirely unpleasant. It reminded Armin of bathwater just a hair too warm. It was bearable, and Armin ran his hand over the ridge of cartilage, feeling every little indent and wedge there.

Evidently, it was what Eren had wanted. Slowly, he closed his eyes, his breathing slow.

“You still trust me, huh?” Armin said quietly, his hand running just under Eren’s left eye. The skin was as dark as a bruise there, and he idly wondered if it was natural markings or a leftover injury.

The response was a low rumble coming from somewhere deep in Eren’s chest. He sounded completely content.

The tears Armin had been fighting back finally came, heat pricking at his eyes. “You just wanted contact, didn’t you?” he asked. When Eren repeated the sound, Armin finally gave in. Tears streamed down his face, his bottom lip trembling. He leaned forward, not caring what happened to him now. He pressed his forehead against Eren’s cheek, relishing in the warmth. The Titan sighed quietly, his left eye opening just enough for a sliver of bright teal to be visible.

“This isn’t even about me,” Armin sniffled, closing his eyes and running his hand over ridged skin. “I made a promise, damnit. I’m not going to break it just because the world is a terrible place.”

It wasn’t really. Nothing could be so terrible if it offered creatures like Eren, or people like Hanji and Levi. Everything else Armin could just cast aside.

He sighed, hiccuping once, as he traced the network of subcutaneous capillaries that spread out like the branches of a tree. He tried to give a name for every color in Eren’s skin, but failed quickly. There was too much to look at, too much to observe, and the sleepy heat that radiated off the Titan was making it difficult to concentrate.

“I’m not going to give up on you,” Armin said softly, finally closing his eyes and feeling tear tracks dry on his face.

Eren managed another content rumble and closed his eyes as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Armin's stealing a few of Eren's (and Mikasa's, a wee bit) lines here, but hey, Eren can't say them himself. Just think of Armin as an interpreter!
> 
> Also, I'm thinking of adding Eren's POV next chapter. I kind of have a plan for it, but I'd definitely like to hear other thoughts on this. Is it too early still? Or heck yes, DJ, do that thing that you do? I'm good with just about anything. uwu
> 
> (Also, other AO3 authors. Quick question, but does anyone else have the problem of AO3 eating their formatting when they go to post a chapter? So far every time I've put a chapter in the editor, it puts massive spaces between paragraphs and then completely ditches the italics. Any way to fix this? :c )


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so ridiculously sorry this took as long as it did. ;n; Hopefully, the next chapter comes much quicker than this one! 
> 
> Also, can I just say that writing for Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie is ridiculously fun? I miiiight have to write something separate for them eventually. I don't think I could resist. uwu

He’d thought a lot about school, usually when he wanted to think about it the least. It wasn’t until he was assigned his job that Armin realized exactly how brutal some sessions of it had been. Of course, it was hard to bury the memory, especially since he _had_ learned some important things. Graduation hadn’t been too far behind him in time, so it still dogged his actions and thoughts when he didn’t want it to.

When he picked up a punch tool to get a small sample of Eren’s skin, he stared at it for a long moment. It was small, not much larger in circumference than a pen. It glinted silver in the light, and his mind recounted a similar shine on a hacksaw. Of course skin samples were collected back then, although everyone had to work quickly when one was taken as they quickly disintegrated. They were taken brutally, with a square deeply cut into skin, usually on the thigh, and then peeled away with any clinging flesh, or in some case tendons, cut away with the saw. Steam would make the designated room hazy, the stench of it overpowering. Then there would be the pervasive smell of rot, typically followed by a retch or two from weak-stomached students.

Armin had gotten used to it after two months in his anatomy and physiology course. He quickly learned that there really was no use to acting disgusted, as the same experiments and samples were collected day after day. He became accustomed to counting and drawing out layers of skin, fat, and muscle. His throat didn’t close up when entrails spilled across the tile.

That didn’t mean he had developed the stone-faced countenance like other students had. He was still sensitive to it all, and he would be lying if he said his stomach hadn’t clenched every time a hot poker was shoved into skin with a sickening hiss, or when a Titan’s spine was ripped out of its back. He still felt _something_ after all of that, and sometimes he wondered if that was an undesirable trait.

Eren had certainly changed some things in him, even after his schooling had been done and over with. Sometimes, his mind would switch the Titans in the dank laboratories with Eren. He could only picture Eren struggling against the iron bindings, faced with a myriad of objects intended to tear him to pieces for the sake of observation, and then executed in the most miserable way. It made Armin feel sick to his stomach, which wasn’t something he’d felt much when he was still at the school.

It wasn’t a good thing to feel like this, he knew. It made him wince when he stood in the containment area and took the skin sample, although it was miniscule, and Eren didn’t flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Armin still said, and apologized again under his breath when he had to take another one.

Eren just stared at him passively. He didn’t understand, or if he did, he didn’t show it. As far as Armin knew, Eren hadn’t had much contact when he had still been outside, since he held very little regard for his own kind. He probably had no idea what they did to specimens in places like this. All he knew was what had been done to him, which was hardly anything comparable.

Armin placed the individual samples into small containers, setting them in a cooler of dry ice to hold off the decomposition. With a sigh, he cleaned off the punch tool and tucked it in his labcoat pocket.

“Sorry again,” he said quietly, leaning against the railing. “If I hurt you, that is.”

He could feel Eren’s eyes on him, staring but unmoving. Then, Eren let out a low grumble, and Armin looked up to see the Titan shrug.

“I know. Hanji said you probably didn’t feel pain. Or, I guess not on the level of a human. Pretty fortunate for you. We have a tendency to break like twigs,” he said with a snort, grinning to himself when Eren returned it.

Armin ran a hand through his hair, yet another habit he was picking up. “I just need to stop dwelling on stuff that happened years ago,” he admitted. “I keep thinking about it and frankly, I’m annoying myself.”

Eren let out another snort, lowering his head to Armin’s level. It looked as if he wanted to say something, his eyes shining, the muscles in his jaw tensing and relaxing several times until they stopped completely. Finally, he settled for gently nudging the catwalk, causing it to quiver.

It wasn’t instinct quite yet, but Armin couldn’t help but reach out and brush his hand over Eren’s hair. Heat radiated from the Titan’s scalp (just like a human, Armin noted), and thick strands of hair felt oily in Armin’s hands. Not surprising, considering that Titans still secreted some bodily fluids, and for that matter, had no sort of bathing ritual or even notion to do so. It wasn’t disgusting though, seeing as how scientifically, it made sense. The chemical composition of their sweat and oil was probably different, formulated to protect their bodies somehow.

Admittedly, it was a strange thought to be having, but Armin was a scientist at heart. He grinned at the thought as he continued petting Eren’s hair. “I guess I should set all of that behind me now, huh? It got me this far, and I can’t complain about that.”

Eren let out a content sigh, leaning his head in closer.

\---

Since Armin had started working at the facility, he hadn’t been to the lab yet. He tried picturing it, his mental image hopping between a carbon copy of the one at school, being outdated with rusty tools and a deplorable hygiene factor, and a stereotypical stark-white room with brightly-colored liquids simmering quietly in beakers, with scientists observing in silence with only the quiet scratch of pen on paper to permeate the atmosphere.

Naturally, the actual lab was nothing like that.

First of all, he was greeted upon entering by a lanky, tall man tripping over himself while carrying a metal tray, his version of saying hello being, “Son of a--!” and then the abrupt clanging of metal on tile.

A shorter, muscular man peered up over the top of a desk with one eyebrow raised. “Your shoelaces again?”

The lanky man answered with an embarrassed groan, righting himself while carefully picking up the tray from the ground. Armin noticed beads of sweat on his face, even though the temperature of the room was actually comfortable. Then, the man noticed him, a sheepish smile crossing his face.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said quietly. “Just uh, forget to stand up straight sometimes?”

Suddenly, a short woman in a labcoat brushed by him, her hair pinned back messily. She didn’t give Armin a second glance. “That sounded stupid,” she called back, not bothering to turn around.

It was the man at the desk that finally decided to take on the burden of giving Armin a proper greeting. He stood up and crossed the space between them, before proving that he stood a good head above Armin. His build made his labcoat fit awkwardly, and it looked like there would be no possible way for him to button it shut.

“Reiner Braun,” he introduced, taking Armin’s hand in a firm shake. “Head of operations here at Trost’s lab. Sorry you had to walk in on us being... us.”

Just as he said it, the lanky man ran into the corner of a desk, yelping before hobbling away.

“Yep,” he said, not missing a beat. “That’s Bertholdt Hoover, one of my assistants. And over there is Annie Leonhart, our head researcher.” Annie glanced up once from a notebook she was scribbling in, giving Armin a shrug as a greeting. “Obviously, she’s charmed to meet you,” Reiner added with a grin.

It was a whirlwind enough that Armin didn’t know what to say for a moment, until he noticed Reiner watching him expectantly. “Oh! Uh, I’m Armin Arlert,” he replied, and he swore Bertholdt was sweating more in secondhand embarrassment. “I came here to deliver some samples.” He gestured down to the cooler he had dragged in.

“Well, you came to the right place. Processing or microscope?”

“Both, I think. I took three samples just to be cautious,” Armin said.

Reiner raised his eyebrows and Annie looked over as well. “You managed to get _three_?” Reiner asked, bewildered. “Did your Titan die or something?”

Right. Armin had to get used to lying. “O-oh. No, I just worked quickly,” he responded, automatically biting down on his lip. He had to stop that, too.

Annie watched him before slowly returning to her work. She didn’t believe him, but luckily she didn’t say anything.

“And you managed not to have a limb chomped off?” Reiner continued, taking the cooler from Armin. He walked over to a series of machines, opening the door on one that looked like a convection oven. “Well, you get lucky ones sometimes, huh? To be fair, a month ago, Dr. Zoe brought in two skin samples of her own, a hair sample, _and_ a blood sample.”

“That’s Dr. Zoe though,” Bertholdt added from around the corner.

It gave Armin a little amusement that honestly, he could get just about anything he wanted from Eren. A hair sample would be ridiculously simple. A blood test would make Armin feel guilty, but he doubted Eren would care.

He watched Reiner take one of the samples and put it in the machine. He closed the door and locked it before flipping a switch that caused it to hum. “New machine we’ve been playing with,” Reiner explained, gesturing to it. “It makes processing pretty easy."

When Armin looked around, he noticed that just about everything in the lab was relatively new. Things still had a new shine to them, glass dishes weren’t chipped, and the machinery didn’t have to wheeze several times before it decided to work. Armin was impressed. The lab still wasn’t what he pictured, though. There was something more comfortable about it, what with piles of paper stacked up haphazardly on nearly every available flat surface, specimen dishes piled up near the sink, and for some reason, someone’s half-done crocheting project sitting on a chair. The lab looked properly used, almost lived in. He didn’t mind being in it at all.

Reiner moved over to a row of microscopes, taking another sample to prepare a slide. “I’m assuming you don’t need directions on how to use one of these,” he commented, pressing a piece of clear film over the sample to hold it in place.

“Oh. Yeah,” Armin replied, sidling up next to the larger man. Reiner didn’t seem like the type to be so experienced, but then again, Armin had met plenty of people who didn’t act or look like scientists, and ended up being spectacular.

Reiner moved away so that Armin could examine the sample. While Armin adjusted the magnification, he heard Reiner walk over to the processor, humming to himself while he watched it.

The skin sample seemed normal at first. There were typical layers of the epidermis and dermis. There were lines of tissue, as clear-cut as if they were stratem in stone. It seemed so perfectly normal that it made Armin wonder if it was really worth taking it in the first place.

That is, until he realized why it felt so normal. The sample of tissue resembled a human’s tissue, rather than a Titan’s. He’d seen both, even his own on one memorable occasion. Neither were alien to him, so it was easy for his mind to place the two side by side in recognition. But now it was obvious. A Titan’s epidermis was far thicker and more pronounced, being built to withstand heavier damage, the dermis thick to withstand impact. While Eren’s sample showed a difference in cells meant to protect his body, it wasn’t striated like a Titan’s.

He kept this revelation to himself, only lifting his head to watch what Reiner was doing.

Armin could feel Annie’s eyes on his back, but he ignored it. Maybe she just had a habit of staring, but he already had a feeling like she knew something.

At that moment, Bertholdt turned around the corner, a thin mask over his nose and mouth and another tray in his hands. This time, it was christened with a thick block of flesh that looked to be sizzling on the metal.

“You drop that one and you’re done for,” Reiner warned.

“I’m not gonna--” he stopped himself as soon as his foot brushed against the leg of a chair. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he audibly swallowed. “I’m not gonna say anything,” he amended, shuffling his way over to a spare table.

With a sigh, Reiner turned back to the processor. “Good thing, because I’m not too keen on disinfecting this room again,” he replied, rolling one of his shoulders.

“That’s happened before?” Armin asked with amusement, noticing Bertholdt’s shoulders raising at the question.

“Once or twice,” Reiner answered. “Contamination isn’t much of a worry here, considering everything evaporates after awhile. From time to time, we get samples in here that _aren’t_ that easy to clean up. Kind of like the one he has over there. That’s part of an even bigger collection from a dead Titan that was, uh... donated to us.”

Armin suddenly found himself interested. “So what are you going to do with it?”

“Typical stuff. Tissue samples being examined, minor dissection, and then Annie’s penchant for reasoning out all of the data into something readable at the end,” Reiner explained, arms crossed over his chest. “All the people up top just want something they can point to and say they understand. As long as everyone thinks that we’ve got a handle on the complex stuff, they’re pretty happy and we still get paid.”

It made Armin wonder if he was the only one who didn’t catch onto that concept early on. First Levi mentioned it, and now Reiner was saying something about it as well. Maybe he had just been too optimistic.

The processor’s alarm went off once it finished. The printer beside it came to life, printing two pages that Reiner took. He glanced them over before handing them to Armin. “Looks pretty typical. High rate of decomposition, heat resistance, and so on. Seems like you’ve got a normal one on your hands. Sorry to disappoint.”

Armin took the papers and looked over them as well, scanning the graphs denoting time, heat and pressure applied, and decomposition rate. However, he wasn’t disappointed. This, combined with what he saw under the microscope, came together to form an increasingly interesting image of what Eren was really like.

Of course, he had to lie. It was strange, since he hadn’t considered how much he would have to do it since Levi told him to. “Ah, yeah,” he said, folding the papers in half and tucking them into his pocket. “Not worth the trouble of getting them, I guess.”

“At least you got to see one of their ugly mugs up close, huh?” Reiner joked, setting the processor’s defaults back in place.

He thought about Eren’s eyes, bright and rimmed in bruise-colored markings. All the sharp angles of his face, the myriad of colors in his skin. Not necessarily ugly, he thought. He had to lie again.

“Yeah. Not a pretty sight,” he replied with a nod, even though his shoulders felt tense.

After he set everything back in the cooler, leaving the third sample with Reiner to discard later, Armin thanked them and set to leave. Before he reached the door, he felt Reiner’s hand on his shoulder, the warmth of it bleeding through the fabric of his clothes.

“Good luck,” Reiner said, patting him congenially. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”

Armin blinked at him, a little stunned, before smiling and thanking him again. He left to the sound of something crashing and Reiner yelling at Bertholdt who let out a slew of apologies.

It wasn’t until he reached the elevator on the other side of the floor that Armin realized he’d left Eren’s skin sample under the microscope.

“Hopefully Reiner just throws it out,” he said to himself as the doors opened.

\---

The next test was much less invasive, just as Armin had promised. It was all about temperature, and the worst part of it was sticking the thermometer into his skin as if Eren’s arm was just meat. Of course, he didn’t care, instead staring down at it passively.

Just as both Hanji and Armin predicted, Eren’s temperature was well above boiling point. The usual theory was that a layer of fat kept a Titan’s internal organs well-insulated, thought to be for digestive purposes, although Titans had no way of actually going through the process of digestion. Armin wondered if the same concept applied to Eren as well.

“Alright, can you hold your breath for a moment?” he asked, watching as Eren tilted his head at him. Then, he stilled, his chest not moving even a fraction.

Surprisingly, the temperature gauge rose little by little, a degree every few seconds.

“Okay, let it out.”

It dropped rapidly, falling just short of twenty degrees cooler.

Armin gaped at it, staring as the gauge rose and fell with each breath Eren took.

“So, it’s not that much about respiration,” Armin reasoned, pulling the thermometer out. Naturally, the pock in the skin from it healed instantly. “It’s all about temperature regulation! Of course, with your nervous system, that’s not too hard to imagine.”

Eren stared at him as if that was the most simple statement in the world. This was all second nature to him, obviously.

“Hey, humans don’t do stuff like this with our lungs!” Armin retorted as he cleaned the thermometer. “We have a whole gland dedicated to what you’re doing with yours.”

Eren rolled his eyes and snorted.

As Armin tucked the thermometer away, he paused, staring down at the railing. “But, uh, that isn’t saying much, considering my theory. I mean, it’s a pretty new theory, and I don’t have a lot of solid ground to place it on yet, or really... I don’t know, anyone but Hanji to show it to. I just think that maybe you’re not one-hundred percent Titan, you know?”

He expected Eren to be surprised, or even perplexed. But Eren just maintained his passive stare, hardly reacting save for the slight dilation in his eyes.

“Maybe even a little human,” Armin tried. Still nothing. It couldn’t be that Eren knew all of this before. Perhaps he didn’t understand, or couldn’t draw the parallel Armin was making. “Well, anyway, I’m going to find out a little more about it tomorrow. I found the name of the soldier you saved on the day you were brought in.”

_That_ got a reaction. Eren’s eyes widened, his breaths coming faster, his shoulders raised. Maybe it was the memory of it, or maybe something even deeper than that.

“Her name is Mikasa Ackerman,” Armin added, watching as Eren blinked at him, his jaw opening and closing as if now, more than ever, he wanted to say something. Frustration was creeping back into his body language, and Armin feared that maybe he had crossed some unspoken boundary of Eren’s.

“I mean, it’s just a short interview. Nothing too special. It’s not like she’s coming here,” he said quickly, putting his hands up in front of him.

It made Eren wind down a little, but not completely. He still seemed like he couldn’t contain himself, his arms twitching, muscles in his jaw tensing. But for the most part, he settled back to where Armin felt like he could leave him alone again.

It raised all sorts of questions, most of which Armin hoped Mikasa could answer. He’d never met her, let alone dealt with much of the military. Regardless, there was a connection there that Eren had made obvious. Mikasa Ackerman was important, which Armin already knew. If there was a connection to Eren, then Armin might have had to consider asking the director if it was alright to add another person to the allowed-to-know list. It would all be determined tomorrow.

\---

It was dark. Again. Just the light from overhead and even that was a little dimmer than normal. The deck was empty. No Armin. Just like all the other nights where he had to stand there, gazing at nothing until the next day would come.

His head was, as usual, in a haze. Everything was foggy, just out of clear view as if he’d been standing in a mist. What thoughts he could make out were patchwork at best, held together weakly and just as likely to fall apart under too much strain. There had been a lot of that lately, with him trying to remember things, trying to hold them together long enough that he could actually _think_ about them rather than let them flutter away as if they’d never been there.

There were some things, though, that he always knew. There was always Armin, ever since the first day. He always stood there, braver than anyone else had been. At first, yes, he was afraid. Then he just somehow _knew_ things. He felt things and knew that Eren felt things, too. That was better than anyone else had done, and he could _certainly_ remember them.

Best of all, he’d given Eren his name back, right when Eren was sure he’d forget forever.

The name was important. It was almost drowned out in the monotony of letters and numbers that meant nothing to him. They were another name, like Armin had said. Once he’d gotten his back, wrote out part of it (when did he learn to do _that_ , he wondered), he felt like the haze lifted a little, or thinned out so that he could see things he wasn’t able to see before.

But there was always something else. Something just cusping on the edge of his mind, so precarious that he couldn’t grasp it. All he could make of it were brief flickers of things from before. Before this place and its cold interior, surrounded by glass and permeated only when Armin came to him.

Grass. He knew what that was. And trees. That wasn’t so long ago. He knew those from before he was captured. However, there was something attached to those thoughts. It fell apart when he reached for it, disintegrated to nothingness, only to return to that untouchable border in his mind that he just wanted to destroy now.

Then, Armin said something about a Mikasa. It shouldn’t have meant anything. He didn’t know names well enough to know anything about those people, except for Armin and Dr. Zoe, who he actually liked. But Mikasa was _someone_. She brought that edge of his mind a little closer to his grasp, and he didn’t know who she was. It was frustrating, but it also brought with it some kind of sleepy relief, like something was being laid at rest at last. He didn’t know that feeling, or what it meant. He just knew that it was a good thing, but he wasn’t completely happy about it.

It got too complex to think about after awhile. In the end, he settled on thinking about Armin. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the glass, remembering hands on his face, in his hair, over his nose. He decided somewhere along the line that he wouldn’t forget that. There were thousands of other things that fell apart in his head, never to be recovered. He wouldn’t allow that to happen to this memory. It was the first time he felt that strange, warm feeling in his chest, the one that made him feel like Armin couldn’t do anything wrong. Every time he felt that, he knew everything was alright.

To some degree, even with his thoughts fever-hot in his mind, he felt that encompassing warmth again, warmer even than the temperature Armin had marveled at earlier. He imagined small, comforting hands on his face, fingers pressing against his skin.

There were things Eren had always wanted to say. He couldn’t speak, and he knew that. He also knew that he’d wanted to speak as long as he knew others could. When he thought of Armin, and all the compassion that Eren had never known humans to be capable of, there was something he wanted to say so badly that it hurt. He could never remember what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw, Eren's perspective! Also fun to write for! What did you guys think? :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this up! Sorry again for the delay. ;-; This ended up being the second draft I made for this chapter, so most of this week as far as writing goes was just me debating with myself over which one to post. This one won out, so yay. c: I'm not going to say that the next chapter will come up faster, since I'm not going to jinx myself.

Armin wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the military, when he really thought about it. He remembered how they would pass out pamphlets to families in his town, all with the assurance that joining the military would not only help out a family financially, but bring them some degree of honor and dignity. With a brochure in hand, Armin had sat on his bed cross-legged, thumbing through it and trying to decide if it would have been worth it. His grandfather wouldn’t have minded, he knew. But then he glanced over to his bookshelf, which he had attempted to organize once, and eyed the stacks of books supporting another layer of them that didn’t fit in neat rows.

‘ _You’re too smart for them,_ ’ his grandfather assured, after Armin had posed the question to him. Then he received a comforting pat on the shoulder. ‘ _But don’t let that stop you from doing what ever it is you want to do._ ’

The brochure was in the garbage by the next morning, and by that evening, Armin was back to paging through scientific theories and conjecture.

He thought back on it as he walked towards the main office of the base, his fingers toying with the edges of a piece of paper with Mikasa’s name and company scrawled on it. All around him, there was an unending stream of movement. Groups jogged in synchronized patterns down the dirt road winding through the compound. Off a ways, a small company was working their way through an obstacle course. Then there were the ones delivering messages, carrying boxes, eating outside the mess hall, and filling just about every other position Armin could imagine. He suddenly felt a little more grateful that he had chosen to be a scientist.

The office was surprisingly cramped, and with all the people making their way around, it was hard to identify the person he’d been scheduled to meet with. Armin finally had to stand on his toes, using a desk for balance, to finally see across the room. Standing near the back wall was a young man, not much older than Armin, with somewhat short-cropped hair (oddly enough, in two tones) and a long face. He had his arms crossed over his chest, scanning the room passively. He and Armin saw each other at roughly the same time, and with a casual grin, he crossed the room.

“Thought you might’ve gotten lost in here,” he commented, reaching out to shake Armin’s hand. “Jean Kirschtein,” he introduced, giving a firm shake. “And you must be our scientist-of-the-day, right?”

Armin returned the shake, but with not half as much vigor. “Armin Arlert,” he returned, trying his best to give an easy smile.

“Right, here to see Mikasa. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need her for?” Jean asked, holding the front door open for Armin.

As Armin walked out, he wondered if he should lie, and if so, what he would have to say. However, Jean wasn’t aware of what had been going on, and he certainly wasn’t a scientist. Armin might have had to stretch the truth, but he didn’t have to necessarily lie.  
  
“She was part of the team that brought my current specimen in,” he explained, following Jean as he walked toward the barracks. “Evidently there were some complications during the move, and I wanted to ask her about them.” Armin bit down on the tip of his tongue as soon as he stopped speaking. It sounded stupid, and it wasn’t any wonder that Jean cast him a bemused glance.

“Complications, huh?” he quipped. “You wouldn’t be talking about, oh, what’s its name. The fifteen meter one? Looks like its got a wicked-mean grin. Black hair, ‘bout this length?” He gestured to halfway up his neck.

Armin gaped at him.

Jean looked oddly satisfied with himself, sinking into a smirk. “I was part of that team, too. You know we’re the company that works closest with your facility. What they don’t tell you is that our numbers are so low that they have to send the same people over and over.”

Armin had never figured that. He knew that the scouts had low numbers, due to going straight into Titan territory. However, Jean and Mikasa’s company weren’t scouts. They were nicknamed ‘wranglers’, mostly for the semblance of tying down a wild animal when they had to lock steel cables in place over a writhing Titan.

“That one was different,” Jean mused, staring aimlessly upwards. “No thrashing, no biting. Nothing we technically had to sedate, even though we did anyway. And then...” His voice trailed off and he turned his stare to the ground.

“He caught Mikasa,” Armin supplied.

There was something dark in Jean’s expression, and for a long pause, he didn’t reply. Then, he sighed, partially in irritation. “I don’t give those monsters the credit of saving anything. They don’t know what the hell they’re doing,” he said, just under his breath. “I just figured that one in particular was ridiculously stupid.”

The barest hints of insult rode on his words, but Armin wasn’t offended for it. Many people shared Jean’s sentiments, especially those who had witnessed the horror that Titans could inflict. Those people, especially the stronger-voiced ones, often complained about the scientists, saying it was a dead-end act and nothing of value could be gleaned from it. Those complaints always followed Armin, only to be soothed when he remembered how different Eren was.

“I’m sorry,” Armin replied quietly, not to anything specific, but just towards the generality of it all. What Jean experienced in his past, what ever it might have been, and for the source of all his hatred towards the creatures outside their walls.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Jean said curtly. Then, his shoulders relaxed, and he slowly sank into an easier gait. “It’s just my job to catch them and hack them up when I’m told.”

It was probably meant to be boastful, but Armin couldn’t bring himself to be pleased about it. He only remembered Levi sharing the details of his responsibility.

“Under what circumstances are you commanded to do that, anyway?” Armin suddenly asked, finding himself curious.

Accordingly, Jean turned and blinked at him. “Uh, well, usually when a Titan goes out of control. You get an abnormal one once in awhile that has to be put down. I mean, it’s always the brass that gets the final say. They decide what Titans are scientifically valuable and which ones have to be executed. I don’t really keep track, y’know?”

That wasn’t surprising, as in reality, very few Titans captured were ever sent to a facility. Armin just wondered what was the criteria for execution according to the authorities.

Just as they reached the barracks, Jean paused, lingering in front of the doorway for a long moment. He sighed, scratching a spot on the base of his neck. “Listen, it’s not like I don’t respect what you do,” he said carefully. “I mean, I’m one of those people that thinks this all is a waste of time, but evidently it’s important enough that even one of our own higher-ups left his job to be a scientist. I don’t get it, and I don’t think there’s anything worth shit in researching them. But...”

If Jean meant for any part of that to be comforting, he fell gloriously short. Regardless, Armin smiled up at him. “No, I get it,” he assured.

Jean studied him briefly before giving a one-shouldered shrug and pushing the door open. “Besides, I think Mikasa gets it better than I do anyway,” he admitted.

\---

Mikasa Ackerman looked strangely out of place, sitting almost primly on her bunk, her fingers running over some stray threads at the end of a long red scarf that was draped across her lap. It reminded Armin that there were some people who weren’t meant to be soldiers. There was something in Mikasa’s face, carefully trained as to not show emotion, that denoted that she wasn’t here of her own accord, either. On top of that, she was gorgeous, which Jean made clear he was aware of by dodging her glance and turning his head away so that the blush dusting his face wasn’t so obvious.

“Jean,” she said, her voice low and even. She nodded in acknowledgement.

“This is, uh, the scientist from... from the testing facility,” Jean introduced, and what ever eloquence he might have had before they entered the barracks magically dissipated.

Mikasa stared at Armin, observing him in silence. Then she put the scarf around her neck and stood up, holding her hand out to him. “Trainee Mikasa Ackerman,” she said, military exactness evident in every word.

He returned the shake, noticing how tight her grip was. He had a feeling she could break his hand easily. “I’m Armin Arlert,” he returned, noticing with chagrin how his voice sounded so soft in comparison to hers.

“You’re here about the fifteen-meter we captured,” she stated. Social niceties obviously weren’t in her repertoire.

“Oh, yes. I’m his... its presiding researcher,” Armin replied.

There was the barest flash of emotion in her eyes, gone as quickly as it came so that Armin could have easily mistaken it for a change in the lighting. She sat down on her bunk again, crossing one ankle over the other before gesturing minutely to the empty bunk across from her. As Armin took a seat, Jean hovered near her, looking brilliantly unsure of himself.

“You can leave if you want, Jean,” Mikasa said, not bothering to look up at the man in question.

At first, Jean looked like he wanted to protest, but instead he nodded curtly, blush still firmly in place, before he made his way out.

There was an extended length of silence, Mikasa giving Armin an even stare, and Armin glancing between her and the floor. Finally, she spoke. “What do you want to know?”

Armin fidgeted with the corner of his jacket before looking back up at her. “The records say you were present at the capture of TF-1505, and in the course of it, fell from what would have been a fatal height. That’s true, right?”

She nodded, blinking slowly.

“And according to accounts, opinions of which differ from person to person, you fell onto TF-1505’s hand. Some people say it was a rescue, and others say it was a coincidence. I want to hear it from you.”

Again, she was quiet, regarding him unwaveringly. “He rescued me,” she replied. Her fingers went up to the frayed strands of the scarf, picking at them with her nails in what Armin assumed was an old habit. “It wasn’t a coincidence. His arm had been tied to the side of his body. He broke the cables in order to save me.”

It painted a far more understandable picture, just in that small amount of words. Armin wondered if she knew something about TF-1505 that she hadn’t been allowed to say before.

“...Did you trust him?” Armin tried.

That flash of emotion returned, but stayed a little longer in expression, making her eyes glimmer in the dim light of the barracks. “Yes,” she said, her voice losing that even edge it had before.

“Why?”

She shifted on the bunk, her fingers going to the scarf with more vigor. “He didn’t want to hurt me,” she explained quietly. “I could see it in his face. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, and that’s why people thought there was something wrong with him.”

There was something about how she said it that made Armin sure that she knew something about Eren. She now had that same dazed look that Hanji had had the first time she’d seen Eren do something extraordinary. Armin was sure he had the look at one point as well.

“I lost my whole family to Titans,” Mikasa suddenly said, as if reading Armin’s mind. “My mother, my father, and my brother. I have every reason in the world to think they’re monsters. And I felt that way for a long time. I just wanted to kill them for what they did to me and my family.”

Mikasa wanted Armin to believe her, to see that even though there were open wounds, rubbed raw time and time again, she still felt that Eren had saved her.

“Why him, then?” Armin asked, leaning forward. “Why, after all that, did you think he went out of his way to rescue you?” It was honest curiosity, but deep down, Armin wanted her to answer the question that had been hanging over him for some time. Why did Eren choose to open himself up to Armin?

Her fingers stilled on the scarf, her eyes now cast downward, bottom lip discreetly pinned under her teeth. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I guess all I could think of at the time was that he didn’t look like a Titan. Titans don’t get scared when we capture them.”

Like Levi, there was something Mikasa wasn’t saying. It was fighting at the tip of her tongue, but even so, she bit it back, with all the resistance of someone swallowing back bile.

“Would it help if I say I believed you?” Armin attempted, resting his elbows on his knees. He was breaking the rule Levi had set for him, but Mikasa earned that trust. She’d experienced Eren’s potential, just like Hanji had. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to let one more person into that circle. Levi could get after him for it later.

“You might be the first person to say so,” she returned, tucking the bottom portion of her face into the scarf.

Armin thought about the reaction Eren had to Mikasa’s name, the way he seemed to mull it over, simultaneously bewildered and excited. If Armin could somehow get the two together, it would be like another test, the first big step towards proving Armin’s theory. It would be difficult, as bringing a member of the military to the facility was a chore when they weren’t on duty. Most of what was done in the facility was classified, but Armin figured this was an extenuating circumstance.

He took in a slow, steady breath, letting it out before looking back at her. “This is going to sound strange, but I have to know. If you could see him again, face to face, would you?”

There was no pause. Not a second of silence to even think it over. “Yes,” she said.

\---

Clearance at the Trost Testing Facility often was compared in difficulty to pulling teeth. Getting the research grant was far easier than filling out the forms, talking to the proper people, and making sure everything was set up correctly. The rules were set in place so that civilians had no way of getting into the facility, even through expert trickery (often used by people in the press). Unfortunately, it made Armin feel like he was in a stranglehold, staring down at the enormous pile of paperwork that Hanji had bestowed upon him when he asked if bringing a member of the military in was possible.

He sat in her office, trying to figure if the pile of paper qualified as a ream, all while trying not to feel too uncomfortable under Hanji’s prying gaze. She hadn’t outright asked him what he wanted the clearance papers for, but she was making it fantastically obvious that she was curious. How someone could ask a question so plainly without speaking was a wonder.

“What do I need a fingerprint sheet for?” he asked, holding up the paper in question.

“To make sure we can affirm that there’s no contamination, or if any documents go missing, that we can trace them back,” she replied, her eyes still level on him, even though the glare of her glasses made it hard to distinguish.

“I’m trying to figure out if we’re a maximum security prison or a research facility,” he muttered, glancing down at a pre-written script for a blood draw.

Hanji shrugged, but again, her gaze didn’t move an inch. “Precautions, you know.”

The question weighed heavier and heavier with each second that passed. Finally, Armin reached the breaking point. “I’m trying to bring in a member of the team that initially captured Eren,” he explained, and for a moment, he thought he might have to be resuscitated from the immediate change in atmosphere that followed. Hanji’s grin was enough to scare anyone to the point of passing out.

“Ahh, so we’re finally branching out!” she said, delighted. “I was wondering when you’d get around to that!”

“Probably never, with all of this,” Armin murmured, waving the stack of papers.

“Well, you know, semantics,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. “Everyone higher up than us just likes staring at pretty words so they know their long hours of writing all this was put to good use. It makes them feel better about themselves.”

Armin snorted at that. Then he found himself bewildered with a sheet of paper expressing the need for the client-in-question’s medical history, going back to great grandparents, if possible.

Suddenly, Hanji stood up so abruptly that a few stray papers on her desk went flying. “I _got_ it!” she exclaimed, the grin on her face growing sinisterly. “Sneak them in!”

It was as if the spirit of Levi was with them, as Armin could practically hear the harsh reprimand in his ear. “That sounds really illegal,” he returned, shoulders sinking.

“Of course it is! But law cannot stand in the way of scientific progress!” Hanji cheered, holding her right fist out as if she was a conquesting adventurer. In her head, she probably was. Armin also had the distinct feeling that law hadn’t stood in the way of her progress on several occasions. “I mean, there’s _tons_ of ways you could do it. Get a spare labcoat and make a fake keycard, or _sneak in at night_.” The last part was said in a conspiratorial hiss.

“Too many security cameras,” Armin replied.

The glare on her glasses seemed brighter than ever. “Not with the right people around, there won’t be,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “I know a few people that wouldn’t mind staying after hours. I mean, there’s no lack of electricians around here. Aaaand we have Levi.”

Again, the spirit of Levi was present, and Armin practically shrank under the imaginary gaze. “I have a feeling like he wouldn’t appreciate that,” he added.

“He takes some convincing, sure. But,” she held her finger up dangerously close to Armin’s nose. “Don’t let anyone lie to you. Levi’s got a wild streak a mile long.”

Armin couldn’t imagine it, but then again, Hanji knew Levi better than anyone, it seemed.

“Would he _do_ it?” he asked, eyes wide.

Her grin widened some more, and Armin was amazed that her muscles weren’t getting over-taxed. “If we have him the right incentive, he’d be all over it. Not to mention, he likes you, so I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard.”

“If he likes me, he has a weird way of showing it,” Armin replied quietly.

If Hanji heard that, she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she sat back down, picking up her pen and a clean sheet of paper before writing furiously on it. It was what Armin assumed to be a letter to Levi, possibly partial question and partial threat.

“Should I start filling these out, just in case?” Armin asked, holding up the papers.

“If you want,” she replied, not looking up from the letter. “I mean, if you like tediousness to the point of a coma.”

At this point, tediousness might have been a reprieve. Even so, Armin couldn’t help but feel the tiny spark of hope he’d been kindling inside of him for some time. Regardless of the danger, of the fact that loomed over both him and Eren that the slightest slip-up could result in an execution, Armin allowed himself to feel it.

\---

Levi ran his hand over the off-white folder, ghosting over the tab that read Eren’s name, just above a harshly crossed-out ‘TF-1505’. He’d read through it, of course. He was always meticulous when reading over files, just as he was meticulous in everything else. It was the first time, though, that a file had let him to stand on an observation deck, staring passively out at a Titan that returned his gaze.

“So, you’re Eren,” he said, watching as Eren’s eyes fixed on him, pupils blown wide, just as Armin had reported.

It was late at night, the facility essentially empty, save for a few office workers and dedicated lab employees. No one would question where Levi was. For that matter, very few people questioned Levi at all.

In short, he was curious. He’d known about TF-1505 and followed his case like he followed all the cases. At first, the Titan hadn’t been interesting, aside from his strangely firm resistance to react to anything. Then Armin Arlert came along, and TF-1505 became Eren, supported by an earlier report from Hanji that there was something different about him.

Now, Eren reacted. He stared downward, his face giving the odd impression that he was permanently stuck with some kind of grinning grimace. Yet somehow, he managed to look curious, as his eyes narrowed. ‘ _Who the hell are you?_ ’ he seemed to ask.

If Armin’s theory was right (and Levi had found it, although he’d always been critical of eavesdropping and snooping), at this point, Levi wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Your boyfriend’s out right now,” Levi answered, glaring up at him, not entirely ignorant that the Titan surpassed his height in multiple measurements. “Let’s just say I was curious about what he’s been saying.”

Eren huffed at him, a clear insult somewhere in there. So, he had an attitude.

“You know, I really don’t care that you’re fifteen meters and could potentially destroy this building if you put your mind to it,” Levi said, eyes narrowing. “A brat’s still a brat, no matter what size.”

If the ‘ _screw you_ ’ had been any more obvious, Eren would have said it. He snorted, lowering his head so that his eyes were level with Levi.

The jabs hadn’t been unfounded or misdirected. Typically, he wouldn’t have said a word to a Titan, let alone this one. But he had to know something, and now he had found it. Even with all he had been through, all he had seen and heard and put up with, he couldn’t fight the strange sensation attempting to wrack his emotional state.

If Eren was a human at some point, he hadn’t been very old to begin with. It was if he was a kid trapped inside a Titan’s body.

Levi made no show of this revelation, save for his grip on the folder tightening. “You know, you’re lucky,” he stated, watching Eren’s expression shift back towards confusion. “You’ve got a researcher that actually believes your shit,” Levi continued, walking towards the glass. “That’s a rarity around here, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

The change in Eren’s countenance was amazing. At the mere mention of Armin, his entire face seemed to soften, his eyelids lowering, settling into an easy, calm expression.

So, he could feel. He could experience emotions on a human level. He could actually show affection, receive it return without fearing it or not understanding it.

It made Levi realize exactly how dangerous the situation was.

“Just be careful,” he said warningly. “He’s all over you, and I’m pretty sure at this point, he and Hanji would bend over backwards enough to snap their spines if it meant doing something for you.”

Eren didn’t understand the warning. That much was clear.

“What I _mean_ , is that it’s best not to forget what you are, and what he is.”

A Titan. Right. That sank into Eren enough that he physically moved away from the glass. He knew what Titans did to humans, and the kind of terror and destruction his kind (regardless of it was his kind at all) had inflicted upon society. Armin was still a part of that, no matter how anyone looked at it.

Eren let out a low sound, like a muted keen. He understood, even though he didn’t want to.

It was possibly the first time in Levi’s life that he felt bad for a Titan, even in tiny increments.

“Shitty over-sized brat,” he muttered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, finally got this done! I'm kind of ehhhhh about this chapter, and partially because while I was mulling over this one, I was writing part of the next one. So, pretty much, I'm way more excited for the next one because holy wah there's plot and a pretty good explanation of why this fic is rated 'M' in the first place. c:

What Hanji made sound easy turned out to be far more difficult than Armin had anticipated. The longer he thought about what would be necessary, the more he started edging back toward the massive pile of paperwork that was daunting enough to make anyone reconsider. However, Mikasa was too important to his case now, so he was left with very little by means of choosing. He could either do what ever Hanji’s hare-brained scheme was, or he could risk carpal tunnel.

It was almost five o’clock in the morning when he decided that Hanji’s idea might not have been so bad, after blinking away the sandy feeling of bloodshot eyes one too many times.

Hanji had assured him that the most difficult part of it all was ensuring that Levi would participate. With a wink, she added that it wouldn’t be as hard as it sounded. Regardless, she still left him with all the technical details.

They settled on the disguise method, with Mikasa being excused by Levi as a visiting scientist from some distant facility that was curious about Trost’s methods. Because she wouldn’t have her own keycard, Levi would “randomly” assign her to Armin, giving her clearance up to the sixth floor. However, the sessions with Titans were short, mostly for safety reasons, so she’d have to stay in either Hanji or Levi’s office for a few hours to keep the illusion constant. That, or she could really play the part and visit other Titans, which Hanji suggested. However, Armin figured that a person who dealt with monstrous man-eating creatures for a living could do without seeing the aftermath.

This, of course, was all planned without Mikasa’s knowledge. It made Armin feel guilty, as he assumed she thought he’d be able to take her to Eren without a hitch. Legality in question, he wondered if she’d accept once she found out what had to be done.

He relayed all of this to Eren, pacing back and forth across the catwalk, arms locked behind his back in a tight grip. “I don’t know what she’s going to say, or if she’s going to tell anyone above her that we’re doing this in the first place. I mean, I’m sure the public’s already suspicious of what happens in places like this, since, you know, taxpayer money and all that,” he rambled, eyes fixed on the metal grips along the walkway. “I could probably lose my job. If they find out about Hanji, she could lose hers. I don’t even _know_ about Levi, since can you fire yourself? Or maybe there’s someone even higher than him that can do that. Maybe he’ll just be temporarily dismiss--”

He was cut off by an enormous plume of steam, which as he looked up, he saw came from a very annoyed-looking Eren. Eren’s mouth was half-open, and Armin belatedly realized the Titan was attempting to get his attention.

“...Huh?” Armin returned, bewildered.

Eren rolled his eyes before shutting his mouth and lowering his head. Gently, he knocked his forehead against the railing of the catwalk. It was a sign that Armin was beginning to interpret as ‘ _It’s going to be alright_.’ Eren had done this before, and every time was in response to what ever Armin was panicking about at the time.

Armin stopped, letting out a sigh and resting his arms on the railing. “You’re right. I get way too worked up about this kind of stuff, don’t I?”  
  
Again, Eren rolled his eyes.

Armin smirked at him, reaching out and brushing his hand against a small section of Eren’s hair. “You don’t have to be so vocal about it,” he joked, and Eren snorted.

It made him come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter at this point what the results were of getting Mikasa in. Even if he didn’t, even if he was fired or at worst, having Eren executed, they had come this far, and it was far better than anyone had ever done in recorded history. So, he figured, it was worth it to do something so ridiculous that it could end in the worst way possible. Besides, if Hanji had been able to keep her job this long, and just as well, be close enough to Levi in the course of it that she could ask this type of thing of him, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

At that thought, his hand stilled on Eren’s hair, feeling the radiating heat coming up from the Titan’s scalp. “Hey, Eren? Can I ask you something?”

Teal eyes peeked up over the railing.

“No matter what happens, and I’m saying this kind of hypothetically, you’d still trust me, right?”

For once, he didn’t feel stupid because he was talking to a Titan. He felt stupid because he was considering that there might come a point where he might betray Eren’s trust, or do something that Eren would perceive as betrayal.

Eren bumped his head against the railing again, but this time raised his head so that it pressed against Armin’s hand. His eyes were fixed on Armin the entire time. It was the best reassurance he could give without outright saying it.

\---

Levi could be persuasive, and maybe a _little_ intimidating. Never intimidating enough to scare Hanji away. She’d simply flit to another subject, or in some cases, the other end of the room, but she wouldn’t leave until he either agreed or at least considered what ever her idea was at the time.

This was one of those moments that she wondered if he’d been _born_ with that look on his face.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s _one_ time,” she said, trying her best to say it with the sweetest tone she could concoct.

Naturally, he wasn’t shaken. “You say that about a lot of things,” he returned. “Just one time you’d like to bring a Titan outside, and you _swear_ it’s not going to do anything harmful. Then everyone’s left cleaning up its shitty remains and we have to go out and hire a psychiatrist for a month.”

“Well, that literally was only one time,” she replied, grinning despite herself.

“I’m amazed I’ve kept myself from strangling you to death.”

Fortunately, Hanji had learned a long time ago that his threats were usually empty, save for some special occasions, and usually that wasn’t directed at her. She simply went on smiling, flitting her way around his desk. “You’ve gotta be curious about this, though. I mean, it’s a Titan that can _think_! And feel, and understand, and reason things out. You can’t say that’s not worth looking in to!”

“It is, and I’ve already done that,” he said, forcibly staring down at a pile of untouched papers on his desk.

She stopped mid-skip, turning to stare at him. “You went to see Eren?”

He nodded, his shoulders a little more stiff than before.

“...And?”

Levi fixed what ever imaginary flaws there were in the papers, setting them over and over despite that there wasn’t a single fold or corner out of place. A nervous habit, if she remembered correctly. He cleared his throat, finally placing them back where they were before. “I came to my own conclusions,” he answered. “Arlert’s theories aren’t unfounded. However, it’s a dangerous situation.”

“Dangerous _how_? Eren wouldn’t hurt anything!”

“Dangerous from an emotional standpoint, idiot. You’ve seen them. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

In a rare move, Hanji took off her glasses, wiping dust off of the lenses with the corner of her shirt. Another nervous habit. Everyone in the building seemed to have one. “I know,” she replied quietly. “But I’m trusting both of them, even if I know what could happen.”

“That’s a death sentence, Hanji.”

“I know,” she repeated. She kept the arms of her glasses pinched between her fingers. “It’s just horrible that it could ever come to that. We’re all here for scientific progress, but some of us aren’t allowed to make it. That’s not fair.”

Levi turned, studying her for a moment. “It’s not,” he agreed. “And all I’m trying to do is keep the peace here as long as I can. All I need is some public uproar to shove us right back to square one. That’s the antithesis of progress.”

“But what if something good does come from this?” she tried. “Both of them are incredibly capable of changing a lot of things, even if not all of it comes to light.”

“You’re suggesting that I play the devil’s advocate to my own work.”

Hanji sighed, putting her glasses back on. “In a way, yeah. You didn’t come here because you liked playing second fiddle to the authorities.”

Something almost undetectable flashed across Levi’s face. Aside from a slightly tighter grip on the edge of his desk, he didn’t move a muscle. She’d successfully struck the nerve that she had been aiming for, and her hypothesis suggested that the reaction would be glorious. After all, she had promised Armin, and she didn’t intend to fail.

“You’re in a pretty unique position, _Corporal_ ,” she teased, watching his shoulders raise like hackles. “One hand in the scientific community, the other in the military. _I_ personally don’t envy you, but you’ve got a lot of power.”

“I already told you, I’m not going to--”

“Three forms. That’s it,” she interrupted, raising a finger and pointing it in his face. “One for clearance, one for a supposed randomly selected scientist, and a slightly-illegal one for a temporary keycard.”

He stared at her, not having once looked down at her finger. “Get your hand away from my face or I’ll snap it off at your wrist,” he threatened.

Hanji conceded, a grin on her face reminiscent of a cat after a successful hunt. “You didn’t say no,” she pointed out.

“If you don’t have those three forms on my desk by five o’clock, I will.”

With a winning grin and a hasty salute, Hanji was already bowing out of the door.

\---

What remained was for Armin to go back to the barracks and explain everything to Mikasa, first to see if she was alright with it, and second to explain how it was going to work out. As he walked back to the base, he tried mentally approaching the situation from dozens of angles, preparing for disappointment as well as enthusiastically explaining what was planned. It was going to sound ridiculous, but that was familiar territory. However, something told Armin that if it had to do with Eren, Mikasa would say yes regardless.

He caught her company in the middle of a training exercise on one of the obstacle courses closest to the barracks. While he wasn’t exactly familiar with all the techniques that came with military training, he figured the exercises they were doing, jumping from platform to platform some twenty feet in the air, before climbing down ladders or poles with no rigging holding them up, had to do with the possibility of their gear failing. That was one of science’s greatest contributions to the military, he figured, having learned about it hundreds of times during his education. Their gear was made to move in the third dimension, which prior to its introduction, was seen as a necessary, but impossible feat for what they had to do. When scientists figured it all as a matter of cables, fine but sturdy machinery, and a user’s natural talent, it was like a godsend.

Of course, once in awhile, it failed. He thought about it as he watched a young man nearly miss one of the platforms, hanging on by his fingers before someone else helped him up. A malfunction could have been what caused Mikasa to fall, or not to catch herself. Malfunctions weren’t common, as the gear was made with such a quality that only a carefully-selected group of engineers could handle it during the building process.

He suddenly caught sight of Mikasa on one of the lower tier platforms. Each leap was graceful, agile as a cat, with even landings that made some of her teammates look on with expressions mixed between amazement and envy. Armin definitely didn’t miss Jean, who was looking up from the ground having just finished his own set. His eyes were wide, mouth set in a half-cocked grin. If anything, he looked proud.

After she finished her platform jumps, she slid down one of the poles in a single fluid motion. Once she had dismounted, a nearby soldier carrying a clipboard scribbled something down before giving her a congenial pat on the shoulder. Her expression didn’t change until she turned and saw Armin. Then, her eyebrows raised, but her mouth was still set in a firm line.

Without a word, she walked over to him, inclining her head slightly in greeting. “I didn’t know you were coming,” she said.

“Ah, I didn’t schedule this. It kind of came up suddenly. But, um, can we talk in private?”

Evidently, his anxiety must have been obvious, because she wordlessly turned and walked into the barracks, holding the door open behind her. He followed her, only noticing as she was sitting down that one of her hands was at the fringing of her scarf again.

He sat down across from her, trying to remember the conversation he had created in his head for this. “I, uh... Well, while I can get clearance for you to come to the facility, it turns out that...” He swallowed heavily, feeling as if there was a great weight settling on his chest. “If I bring you in, the attention it might draw could be detrimental to TF-1505’s case.”

She gave him an even stare, her fingers stilling on the fabric by her neck. “So, I can’t go.”

“No! You can, but, it’s not really going to be... legal.”

“I don’t care,” she said immediately. At least she was proving one of his points. “I’ll do it.”

“You’re alright with that? Even though I haven’t told you what we have to do?”

Her entire being seemed to be radiating initiative. “I figure you’re intelligent enough to have this worked out. I trust you.”

How much she actually _did_ trust him wasn’t clear, but she was dead set on it, so he accepted it. “You’re going to have to act like you’re a scientist. You’ll have a badge, a card, clearance, and everything else you’ll need. Hopefully no one will ask questions, but if they do, I’ll answer for you.”

There was no wavering in her composure. Her stillness was almost meditative. “And this will work,” she stated, rather than questioned.

“Hopefully,” Armin replied with a shrug. “Dr. Zoe and I planned this out as best we could. She’s handling all the paperwork, and I just had to tell you about it and then take over once you actually came to the facility.”

Mikasa shifted a little in her seat, eyes breaking away from him only once to stare down at one of her hands sitting in her lap. Then, she glanced back up at him. “All I need is a time and place,” she said. While her tone didn’t carry confidence, it had certainty.

“Two days from now,” he responded. “There’s a bookstore down the road just outside the gates of the facility. I’ll be there at eight in the morning with everything you need. You’ll have to show your badge and give your clearance papers to the guard, but that shouldn’t take long.”

“I don’t mind.”

\---

Of course Armin fretted over it. He went over the plan in his head like a mantra, ironing out anything that was worrisome, only to worry about it more when he thought that it might not go as well as he hoped. There were so many factors, despite that the daily goings-on of the facility were predictable, aside from the obvious when it came to specimens. Very few people spoke to Armin anyway, save for Hanji. As long as he and Mikasa went straight to the sixth floor observation deck, everything would be alright.

Except he began to wonder if the guise of being a visiting scientist would arouse some kind of excitement or chattiness that they really didn’t need. All Mikasa knew was that she was supposedly a scientist from Stohess, was studying the construction and technology behind Trost’s containment areas (which were often boasted about), and would only be there for half a day. It would be enough to go through a session with Eren in completeness, as long as it worked. If she was asked anything else, and if Armin couldn’t answer for her, they would be in trouble. He desperately hoped Hanji or Levi had dealt with this possibility already.

Although Mikasa seemed nervous, it wasn’t over the plan. She adjusted the labcoat she was given as they walked to the gate, making sure her badge was on straight, and double-checked that the clearance papers were in correct order. While it seemed like that’s where the anxiety was rooted, it was quickly dissolved when Armin noticed her minutely rocking between her heels and her toes. She was impatient, if anything. She wanted to see Eren and that was what was bothering her.

“Papers, please,” the residing guard said, holding out his hand while looking brilliantly bored. Mikasa all but shoved them into his hand, causing him to glance up with an eyebrow raised, but shortly after glancing over them and shrugging.

“Alright, go ahead,” he murmured, gesturing toward the door. “Next.”

Armin quickly flashed his badge before going into a half-jog to catch up with Mikasa.

“You made it sound like this was going to be difficult,” she muttered as they walked toward the elevator.

She was right, and that was a relief. Armin had anticipated some kind of drilling inquiry, but it never came. The guard was wonderfully lackadaisical about the whole thing.

“Oh!” came a voice from behind them. The two turned around to see a young woman walking toward them, an enormous smile on her face.

“Dr. Ral!” Armin exclaimed. He forced a smile, discreetly nudging Mikasa’s side to make her do the same. Petra Ral was famous in the facility, not just because of her brilliant dissertations, but her admirable, calming mien and cheerful nature. It made her a person of respect, and although Armin typically enjoyed seeing her, at that moment he wanted nothing more than to escape.

“Ah, Armin! Good to see you again,” she greeted, shaking his head before turning to Mikasa. “And you must be our visiting scientist. Levi mentioned something about you this morning. You’re from Stohess?”

Mikasa only nodded, shaking Petra’s hand in return.

“Miss Faystone is studying our containment areas,” Armin explained, using the alias Levi had created. “I was assigned to show her mine.”

“Fantastic! Honestly, the technology and engineering that went into them was positively fascinating, and it really shows! For instance, did you know that Trost was the first facility to have an adjustable temperature system? Pioneered it, actually,” Petra said, smiling with pride. Then she waved her hand in front of her face, her smile becoming sheepish. “Of course you knew that. You’re here to study them, for goodness sake! I’m so sorry, I get a little excited about stuff like that.”

Mikasa forced a smile in return. “It’s alright. Being passionate about something isn’t anything to be embarrassed about,” she returned.

“You’re absolutely right! Trost has so many passionate people working here, so I guess I’m just happy to be working among them. Dr. Zoe for instance! She’s practically performed miracles in Titan research. Even our director’s done some amazing things,” Petra said.

Armin was beginning to panic, eyes nervously flitting to the clock mounted closest to them. Even in the short time Petra had been addressing them, it had already been five minutes. “A-ah, Dr. Ral, I really should take Miss Faystone up to the observation deck. I’m sure she’d love to hear more, but we’re running pretty low on time.”

A blush came with the sheepish expression this time, and Petra smiled despite herself. “I’m so sorry again. Like I said, I get excited. I’d love to talk to you after your examination! I’m sure your line of work is very interesting,” she said cheerfully.

Mikasa smiled again, nodding in recognition before making her way toward the elevator again. Armin followed her, turning around once to wave to Petra. “We’ll definitely try to find you later! Thank you, Dr. Ral!” he called, and she waved happily in response.

Once they were in the elevator and the doors closed, he let out a sigh. “That was close. If it had been anyone but Dr. Ral, I would have been worried.”

“I take it not everyone is like her,” Mikasa replied, her expression sinking back to its typical even solemnity.

Armin shook his head, watching the numbers above the door slowly rise. “Most people here don’t care very much about their work. In fact, there were fifteen researchers that handled TF-1505 before me, and according to their reports, they probably could have cared less about him.”

“You’re not like that, though.”

He felt his face heat up at that, and he shifted his gaze down to the floor. “I’d like to think so,” he said quietly.

“You care enough about him to bring me here, even though you could get in trouble,” Mikasa replied. “You aren’t like the other fifteen.”

The elevator chimed once it had reached the sixth floor. Mikasa stepped out without another word, waiting just long enough for Armin to take the lead.

They walked in silence until they reached the door to the deck. Before Armin slid his card through the reader, he turned to look at Mikasa. “You’re sure you want to go in here?” he asked. “This _is_ a Titan you had to capture, after all.”

“I’m sure.”

He slid the card through, listening to the locks clicking systematically before the door opened. As usual, the floor was dark aside from the pale glow coming in from the container. Armin could just make out the back of Eren’s head before Mikasa stepped in front of him. She was staring at Eren as though hypnotized, and so slowly walked toward the glass. Then, carefully, as if the barrier between them was extraordinarily delicate, she placed her fingers on it. Armin walked up beside her, glancing between her and Eren.

When she didn’t say a word, Armin turned toward Eren. “Hey, you have a guest,” he called.

The reaction was immediate. Eren turned to face them, eyes narrowed at first, but widening at the sight of them. Just like Mikasa had, he approached them slowly, his steps almost hesitant. Teal irises shifted from Armin to Mikasa, and then fixed on her. Everything seemed to freeze as he stared, expression both baffled and amazed.

“This is Mikasa,” Armin said, feeling that he had to choose his words carefully, lest break the atmosphere between them. “You saved her the day you were captured.”

Eren knew all of this, but Armin saying it seemed to bring it home for him. The muscles in his jaw flexed, his eyes shining, wanting for all the world to speak but having no way to articulate how he felt.

Mikasa seemed to do the same, her mouth opening and closing before she finally bit down on her lip, her free hand going to her scarf. “I remember you,” she said quietly, her voice almost at a whisper. It was the most emotion she had bared in front of Armin, and he was certain he was witnessing something very rare indeed.

Eren didn’t move, save for his eyes moving so he could observe her. He almost seemed _afraid_ to move, like he didn’t want to scare her or do something so far out of the ordinary.

“Do you think he remembers me?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Armin suggested. He wanted to use the catwalk, but he wondered if somehow all of this would compromise Eren’s emotional state. Eren hadn’t shown any tendencies of a typical Titan, but there were always variables, and with how delicate the situation already was, he didn’t want to risk it.

Her hand moved up the glass, fingers splayed against it. “I don’t want to call him by what his code number is,” she muttered.

It really was now or never, Armin reflected. He had gone this far by bringing Mikasa here in the first place, so it wasn’t as if Levi didn’t already know. He took in a deep breath, facing her completely. “He has a name, actually.”

She was silent, but she glanced at him imploringly.

“Eren. I didn’t give him that name, either. He actually named himself.”

The grip on her scarf was white-knuckled, her eyes widening. If Armin didn’t think otherwise, he could have sworn her eyes glistened with what might have been tears threatening to fall.

“Eren,” she repeated. Then, she sniffed. There _were_ tears, one, then two falling down her cheeks before disappearing on the edge of red fabric. “His name is Eren.” She said it as if she was trying to comfort herself.

There was a question nesting on Armin’s tongue, but he was afraid it might breach something, or destroy what ever it was completely. But, like everything else that had to do with Eren, he gave in, figuring that at worst, it was a stupid theory. “Mikasa, do you know him?” he chanced.

“Eren is... _was_...” her voice faded, and as she spoke, Eren came even closer. Armin saw the muscles in his left arm twitch, the tendons rising and falling. He wanted to return Mikasa’s gesture, but something was stopping him. She saw this as well and sniffed again. “Eren was my brother’s name. The one who died in the Titan attack.”

Her fingers ran over one of the stray threads of her scarf, as if she found solace in it. “But,” she added, her voice trembling. She gazed up at Eren, tears streaming down her cheeks. “That’s impossible. My brother’s dead.”

She gritted her teeth, and Armin felt like there was nothing he could say, nothing that could help her or comfort her or what ever it was she needed emotionally. This was something she had to resolve for herself.

“It’s just... a coincidence,” she said, her voice cracking. Her composure was falling away with every moment that passed.

Eren finally moved, raising his left hand slowly. Just as carefully as he had done in the past, he pressed it against the glass, only a few feet from Mikasa. He stared down at her, letting out a low whine. Although Armin could usually decode what Eren felt, or what he tried to say, this time it was lost.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woaaaah I totally meant to post this earlier today, but unfortunately my Google Drive account decided to fight with me. Alas, I won, and now there's a new chapter. Yeeee. c: 
> 
> Anyway, it's like 2:30 am here so while I could totally bore everyone with just loving on people and so on, I'll just hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Aaaand spoiler warnings for those not caught up in the manga. Just so you're aware. If you're not caught up and you don't want to be spoiled, you can totes skip the ending part and just know that it's gory and blech. Yaaay now you know <3
> 
> ALSO, there's fanart for this fic now! I'm still trying to comprehend it because it's just so beautiful and just yesssss. <3  
> http://zipra.tumblr.com/post/59931488385/ahh-some-doodles-for-this-really-nice-fic

While Armin and Mikasa worked their way through the halls of the testing facility, and even when Mikasa finally came face to face with Eren, Levi found himself caught up in a situation he certainly didn’t want to be in. In fact, he had planned to be nearby, so that there would be less chance that they might get caught, or heaven forbid, anything worse than that if possible. Instead, Levi was informed that an order for an inquiry had been given to him and he was to come to the President of the Research Association as soon as it was convenient. However, that typically translated to ‘as soon as possible’.

Erwin Smith was a perfectly reasonable man, and was the entire reason as to why Levi was currently Trost’s director, rather than sitting at a desk in a military branch. Erwin also had a stunning military background, with enough commendations to set him up for a glorious promotion. He had famously turned it down, instead focusing on the scientific field, much to the chagrin of those acquainted with him. No one was entirely sure why he had done so, and even Levi, who had followed a very similar path, was none the wiser.

For him to summon Levi was something of either alarm or interest. Erwin was almost constantly busy with something or another, managing several facilities at once and having at least four meetings a day to discuss their affairs. To want to speak to Levi personally, without a conference room full of people, was something to puzzle over.

As he stood before Erwin’s door, hand poised to knock, he took an uncharacteristic deep breath, trying to fight back a nagging feeling of absolute foreboding. Typically, he didn’t fret over anything, but there was something whispering in the back of his mind that it was necessary to worry.

After two short, clipped knocks, he heard Erwin call for him to come in, and he did so without any further hesitation.

Erwin’s office wasn’t as spotless as Levi’s, but had a more cozy feel that Levi’s lacked. It was fitting for a man that practically lived where he worked, with several chairs and sofas, a multitude of bookshelves boasting everything from classics to modern literature, and a table set aside with a coffee pot and a half-empty basket of what Levi assumed was some kind of pastry.

At the head of it, framed against an enormous window looking out over the city, was Erwin, at the moment pausing in the midst of writing a letter to glance up at Levi, his expression perfectly composed as usual, with the air of contentment as well as authority. Erwin was younger than most of the people at his rank and status, but the atmosphere surrounding him was practically regal. He demanded respect without ever saying a word, and it was what endeared him to Levi, even when the latter was feeling particularly rebellious.

Levi sat in one of the overstuffed chairs across from Erwin’s desk without a word, settling in while fighting tension with familiarity. It worked, and Erwin allowed a carefully composed smile, nodding to him in recognition.

“Good to see you again, Levi,” he greeted, setting his pen aside and folding his hands on his desk.

“You too,” Levi replied, much more brusquely. Erwin was already issuing more pleasantries than normal, when in a usual meeting, he’d get down to business almost as soon as Levi sat down. Levi could already feel his shoulders tensing, but made sure to keep this fact invisible.

It was silent for a moment, punctuated only by the soft ticking of a clock mounted on the wall behind Erwin. The ticking seemed to mock them, and Erwin wasn’t ignorant to it.

“I’m afraid I can’t bury all this under politeness or small talk, but then again, you’ve never been partial to that anyway,” Erwin finally said.

Levi only hummed the affirmative.

Erwin moved one of his hands toward an envelope to his right. The top of it had been carefully cut open, exposing a multitude of folded papers. He took the envelope, but didn’t remove the contents, opting to hold it as if it were an explosive prone to go off. “I won’t bore you with reading the contents, but I can tell you that what we’re dealing with is dangerous,” he explained. “I don't suppose you’re ignorant to it.”

The foreboding feeling suddenly became clearer, and Levi took in a deep breath. “No,” he said stiffly. “If it’s anything like what I’ve been dealing with for the past week, then I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“The only luck we have with this is that this letter was sent by someone below my authority. No one above me knows about it, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Levi crossed his right leg over his left knee and leaned back in the chair. “You have faith in the project, though,” he remarked.

“After it was explained to me, and now in light of this, yes, I do have faith in it,” Erwin said, but not without some edge of disappointment.

“What does it say?”

Erwin still held the envelope, his fingers loosely gripping it as to not box the edges. “A lab sample was carelessly left out, and upon further investigation as to its contents, it showed signs of unique hybridization.”

The statement was well-rehearsed, too technical for Erwin to sound comfortable with it.

“‘Careless’ is the optimal word,” Levi replied. He knew the situation was now on tenterhooks, and he was doing his best to navigate it without any further damage. Erwin was fortunately trustworthy, but there were people above and around Erwin that couldn’t boast the same.

“Regardless of why the lab sample was left in the first place, it’s put us in a very delicate situation,” Erwin returned, finally setting the envelope down. “Your facility is holding what very well may be the most important scientific development since the start of this brand of research, since the very first Titan was _captured_. You and Dr. Zoe have both remarked on how miraculous it is, and I’m in complete agreement. But like anything of this magnitude, it has to be guarded, and in a way much better than how it’s being done right now.”

Levi narrowed his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

“A change in researchers, first and foremost,” Erwin said. “Mr. Arlert has potential, but he’s too new to this, too fresh out of his education to properly gauge what he’s dealing with. We as a group are already aware of what TF-1505 is capable of, and what he may be concealing, so it wouldn’t be difficult to take the reins from there and put them in more professional hands.”

Levi didn’t reply, and for the first time in what felt like eons, he found himself so strongly disagreeing with Erwin that it actually took him a moment to collect himself, to reason out the emotions that suddenly spiked within him.

“I can tell you this much,” Levi said at last, his tone returning with near frigidity. It was a tone he saved for those he was angry with, for underlings and even authorities that had crossed too many lines. Erwin hadn’t done anything that bad, but he needed to hear for himself the magnitude of what he was now dealing with. “If you change researchers now, even to someone like Dr. Zoe, TF-1505 will immediately revert back to a pacing idiot with no scientific merit.”

Erwin raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by the chilly response. “What makes you say that?”

“TF-1505 has an emotional connection to Armin Arlert for reasons I can’t explain. He’ll react to him specifically, or even to the mention of him. The moment you reassign Armin is the moment you give up every inch of scientific progress the two of them have managed to cover. In short, it would be the stupidest decision you’d ever make.”

Somehow, the ticking of the clock seemed leagues louder as Erwin stared at him, expression unreadable. “...You’re certain of this?” he finally asked.

“More than certain.”

“And what makes you sure that something like that would happen?”

“The fact that TF-1505 practically told me to stick my head up my ass when I called Armin his boyfriend is probably a good indicator.”

Disbelief crossed Erwin’s face immediately, and it was almost laughable if the situation wasn’t so dire. “Normally, I’d doubt that,” Erwin said, eyes widening again. “But I trust your judgement. Against my own common sense, that is.”

“Duly noted.”

“Regardless, if Mr. Arlert is to remain in the project, he has to understand the gravity of it, and that any future slip-ups like this can jeopardize it immensely. Lecturing him can be convincing, but scientists are naturally tactile. They understand what they can see for themselves.”

Once more, the foreboding feeling began to spread, and Levi’s fingers tightened on the armrests. He chose not to say anything, already having an idea of what Erwin was suggesting.

Erwin reached into one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a piece of paper. He wrote quickly, writing out what looked to be an address. Then, he handed it to Levi. “In two days time, at one of the field research stations, a Titan is going to be executed. The Titan bit off the arm of one of the researchers, and attempted to maim a second. Take Mr. Arlert to this execution so he can see for himself what might happen if he isn’t more careful.”

Levi stared down at the address, finding himself feeling oddly hollow about the whole thing. He had already explained the consequences, and he knew Armin wasn’t unfamiliar with it, having seen his own fair share of dissections and botched experiments. Yet he hadn’t seen anything of the sort since Eren was assigned to him.

It had to be done, and he was completely aware of why.

\---

Mikasa and Armin sat in near silence on one of the couches facing Eren. They watched Eren pace, stop to stare at Mikasa, turn his head this way and that, and continue around his container like a pondering philosopher. Mikasa just stared back, having since been too stunned to stand on her own.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. Then she paused, moving her gaze down to her knees. “No, maybe I do. But, it all just seems so impossible.”

She wasn’t alone in her confusion, as Armin had been dwelling on it since Mikasa had explained her history to him.

“Maybe,” he replied, turning to look at her. “And I’m not really the type to say this, since metaphysics isn’t exactly my thing, but, it’s possible that he was... reincarnated?”

He half expected her to stare at him in disbelief, or possibly become angry with him. Instead, she quietly nodded, following it with a shrug. “Right now, anything seems possible.”

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but did you _see_ your brother get killed?”

Mikasa shook her head. “No. The Titans came and I thought he was right behind me when we started running away. When I turned around to see if he was there, he wasn’t. I guess he went back to the house to find our mother. Then a Titan came and crushed the house. I was taken by one of the military officers that had come to help, and I begged him to go back and see if they were alive. I hoped that maybe they’d gotten out, or maybe the Titan had missed, but then they told me that the house was completely destroyed and all they could find was blood and scraps of clothing scattered around.”

She drew in a shaky breath, trying to keep some kind of grip on her composure. “Everyone went to camps or specialized housing, and I kept hoping that maybe someone got out and I’d find them there. But when they finally posted the lists of everyone who was dead or missing, Eren was on that list. Everyone I knew was. I just... stopped hoping for anything after that. It was only worse after they declared everyone who had been missing for over six months to be dead.”

Both of them looked up at Eren, who had since stopped walking and was watching them in return. Armin had never wanted more than at that moment to understand what Eren was thinking. He had always wanted to know, always wished that Eren could speak and voice what he thought or what he felt. It was something Armin had dwelled on repeatedly, to the point that he sometimes grew frustrated. This time, he wanted it not just for himself, but for Mikasa as well.

“My brother meant the world to me,” Mikasa suddenly said, her voice strained, tears forming at the corners of her eyes again. “If this Titan is him somehow, and maybe I’ll never find out how, at least I know he’s alive. I’m just...” She trailed off, burying her mouth and nose under her scarf. Her eyes were shut tightly, fighting back tears.

Armin put a hand on her shoulder, feeling his chest tighten just out of sheer sympathy. To his surprise, she leaned toward him, and he suddenly found himself pulling her into an embrace. She wanted some kind of contact, maybe to make up for what she lacked in losing her brother. There might come a time, Armin figured, where he could allow Mikasa to go into the containment area, to touch Eren and speak to him even though the Titan couldn’t reply. Armin knew that she was allowing herself to hope again, and that was the best thing he could do for her.

The door to the deck clicked open quietly, but was surprising enough to make them both look up. Hanji peeked in, worry riding her features, and only barely concealed by a forced smile. “Ah, Miss Ackerman,” Hanji said. “I’m afraid you’ve been called back to the barracks. Director Levi wants to see Armin immediately. He says it’s an emergency. We’ve got an escort set up for you, though.”

Mikasa frowned, looking to Eren who watched her eagerly. Then she nodded, more to Armin than Hanji. “I understand,” she said quietly. “Thank you very much, though.”

“Of course,” Armin replied, trying his best to smile at her. “I’ll try to arrange a visit in the future. Hopefully it’ll work out.”

As Mikasa stood up, she stayed silent, focusing completely on Eren. “Even if you can’t,” she said. “If he’s really my brother, or some incarnation, at least I know he’s in good hands.”

She walked towards Hanji, giving the other a curt nod before following her out into the hallway. When the door shut, Armin sat in silence. He stared down at his hands, balancing on his knees with his fingers curled inward.

He wanted to ask Eren if he thought Mikasa was right, but he knew all it would come down to was some kind of botched self-assurance. What ever Levi wanted set him more on edge, and he couldn’t shake the thought that he really wasn’t meant for what he was doing. Eren had revealed so much, and they’d both come so far, but for nothing in reality. He had spent hours, some sleepless, others stressed, to construct nothing. He knew he was doing it for Eren now, but there was always that threat, always the edge of a blade that wouldn’t hesitate to slice through Eren’s neck if they slipped up.

He had a feeling that was exactly what had happened.

Armin clenched his fists hard enough to feel the beginnings of dull crescent-shaped pain forming on his palms.

\---

A Titan could die. Eren knew that. He knew it more acutely than anything else he knew about his kind. His awareness of it began to take hold when he watched Armin stand up after Mikasa had left, fists clenched at his sides, shoulders raised, bottom lip left with a lightly bruised imprint of teeth. Armin didn’t say anything out loud, and he didn’t need to. It was just simple connections that Eren was able to make.

Levi was stronger than Armin, both physically and metaphorically. He was able to get onto the observation deck, meaning he had a way instead of that single key that was only given to certain people. He spoke condescendingly, but in a way that commanded attention. Even though Eren instinctually wasn’t fond of him, for how he spoke to Eren and his word choice, he was far wiser than he appeared. Of all things, he made Eren start considering things he hadn’t considered before.

For one, his own life wasn’t something he had thought about. He tried to remember certain things from the beginning of it, yes, but the question of his mortality or anything like that was never something he mused on. Levi made him more aware than what he was comfortable with. Suddenly, he was dogged by the thought of death, that Titans would die after some struggle, and rot away so quickly that there would hardly be anything left of them.

Death didn’t scare him, though. Not a lot of things did. What _did_ scare him was that if he died, he would disappear and there wouldn’t be anything for Armin to remember him by. Armin would never see him again, and he would never see Armin.

He’d never see Mikasa either, and just when he had started to piece things together about her.

That was why he stood stiffly in the muted light of the container after Armin left, struggling to hold himself in some kind of composure that wouldn’t make him seem so scared. He didn’t want to die, if that was indeed what Levi had called Armin in for. He didn’t want to be a memory. He wanted to still be substantial somehow, which was another concept he was starting to grasp again.

In the end, he broke down, his knees bending, his shoulders and head lowering, his entire body seeming to give way until he was sitting on the ground, feeling the chill of concrete on his skin. He hadn’t noticed sensations like that before, like how concrete and glass were two different kinds of cold, or how concrete scratched him while glass was smooth. He’d become more tactile, touching the strands of his hair sometimes and feeling them glide under his fingertips. He’d touched his own eyes before, only to blink rapidly after soreness had overtaken them. He remembered when Armin had touched his skin, his hands tracing networks of blood vessels, and so Eren had taken to doing the same on his arms and legs, even though his movements were still clumsy.

In all these moments of self-awareness, of recognizing his sense of being, he wanted so desperately to be something else. Levi’s reminder hadn’t helped at all, since he knew that as much as he wanted to be with Armin, he couldn’t go beyond his cage, having to settle on the moments when Armin chose to extend the catwalk. Those were the best moments, but were also the ones that invoked the most loneliness. The feeling of Armin’s hands on his skin stayed with him hours after the scientist left. He could never touch Armin back like that, without being afraid of hurting him or killing him. That’s just what Titans did after all, and sometimes he felt like he couldn’t escape that boundary.

He didn’t want to be taken from Armin, or Armin to be taken from him. He didn’t want it so that he could never see Mikasa again. He didn’t want to be a Titan forever. There were all these desires, coupled with aversions, that finally led him to issue a high whine that trailed off into a gravelly groan.

Eren wanted to speak most of all, to tell Armin how he felt and what he wanted to say, to tell Mikasa that he was starting to remember her, to laugh about Hanji and listen to the stories that she always seemed to want to tell, to snap back at Levi with insults tied with sarcastic grins.

When he groaned again, out of frustration rather than sadness, there was something else in his mind, moving in and out of these thoughts that didn’t seem as feverish as they used to.

‘ _One day,_ ’ a voice said. It was familiar, but Eren couldn’t remember who it was. ‘ _One day you’ll be able to tell them everything._ ’

Then, in a tone that sounded like it was laced with a crooked grin, _‘They’re probably going to be annoyed with how much you’re going to talk._ ’

He grunted in return, and his jaw ached.

\---

Once, when Armin was in school, a Titan had to be executed. It had fatally injured a younger student, and seriously injured two others that attempted to restrain it. Of course, news of its pending execution traveled with the quickness of an uncontained fire, and so the execution, which was public, turned into a sort of spectator event.

The Titan was a hair under nine meters in height, with bulging eyes and an underbite that gave it the appearance of an ill-bred dog. They had it tied with cables to a steel frame, and even as it was pinned to the ground, it thrashed and gnashed its teeth, fingers clawing into the dirt underneath it. Armin remembered how hideous it was, and how the execution was much closer in appearance to a rabid animal being put down.

Two military officers were brought in, both sporting the necessary blades needed to kill it. If one somehow failed, or if something went wrong, there would be someone else who could kill it as well. The two acted as if it was perfectly typical to kill a menacing, murderous Titan, laughing as they examined it, taunting it, watching with some kind of resolute glee when it attempted to snap one of their ankles off. They vaguely gestured with their blades to the back of its neck, presumably figuring out the best way to cut into it.

When the time came, and the entire student body seemed to be present and waiting for the execution with silent excitement, a senior scientist went to the officers and quietly discussed something with them. He pointed at the Titan’s limbs, made a slicing motion against his own neck with the edge of his hand, and then shook the hand of one of the officers.

As soon as the scientist took a step back, the other officer raised his blade and harshly rammed it downward, cutting through layers of skin and muscle. He leaped back when the Titan thrashed, howling so loudly that several students had to cover their ears. Blood poured from the wound, and when it turned its head, Armin could see a quick flash of white from a portion of its exposed spine. What was worse was that the wound hadn’t been enough to kill it. It screeched and roared, its eyes rolling back in its head while steam and saliva poured from its mouth.

The next officer shrugged, walking over to the Titan and promptly sticking one of his alternate blades through its nose and mouth, effectively pinning its head to the ground. It was growing weak from the wound at its neck, but it still struggled, and to Armin’s disgust, he could hear creaking and ripping sounds from where it was trying to escape.

Its struggle didn’t last much longer, as the officer used another blade to cut a deeper wound into its neck, a satisfactory crack echoing over the dying groans of the Titan as its spine was severed. Its fingers twitched against the ground once, then twice, before it finally stilled, skin already becoming discolored in a few places.

A few field scientist students rushed down the the Titan, beginning a post-mortem examination with all the speed needed to get results during decomposition. They used a smaller set of similar blades to extract skin and tissue samples and remove pieces of bone. Armin couldn’t ignore their similarities to carrion, and he felt his stomach lurch at the idea.

It was enough for him to wonder why he was being taken to another, after he already knew the bloody consequences.

When he had met with Levi, the director gave him a stiff greeting, displeasure evident even with his typical expression of collected calm. He’d given Armin a very rough outline of what was to happen and why, and when he finally added that a lab sample had been left, Armin felt himself grow pale. It _had_ been careless, he realized.

In short, his punishment was to witness an execution of a Titan, and as Levi added, to imagine Eren in its place.

The execution was far different than the one in Armin’s memory. It was private, contained in another facility separate from Trost’s. In fact, Armin had never seen this one before, and assumed it was for independent research. The room being used was dark, but immaculately clean. The floor was covered in ash-gray tile, pocked here and there with drains. It was obvious that the room was intended for this kind of purpose, or for things like vivisections and dissections. The school had the more antique, medieval version.

The Titan in question was hardly six meters, and far better resembled a snarling reptile than a human. Its eyes were enormous and dark, its hair thin and patchy, but still wild. Its arms and legs were almost frog-like, supporting a roundish body. The only thing that was particularly menacing about it were dangerous claw-like nails on its hands, and a row of pointed teeth that made the idea of maiming much more realistic.

It was held down by a grid of heavy cables, all locked into place with hooks bolted into the tile. Armin soon understood that the size of the Titan had nothing to do with strength or weakness. The Titan still thrashed violently, twisting its head from side to side, hissing and growling at every interval.

As Levi and Armin took their seats on a balcony overlooking the scene, Levi sighed and reached into his coat, pulling out a handkerchief. He quickly wiped his hands with it, the bridge of his nose wrinkled in disgust. “Just looking at it grosses me out,” he muttered.

There wasn’t a long pause like there was at the execution at school. The officer in charge of this execution only offered the Titan a cursory glance before shrugging and clicking his blades into place. A scientist stood just off to the side, cradling a clipboard in the crook of her arm.

“Subject TG-549, being executed on the grounds of grievous bodily harm to attending scientists,” she called out, presumably to others in the room who seemed to be taking notes. “Attending officer can go ahead at his leisure.”

At the moment, Armin didn’t understand how he was supposed to imagine Eren in this Titan’s place. There was no physical similarity, no features that offered a single parallel. There was nothing, until just a second before the officer’s blade cut into the Titan’s neck.

The Titan had twisted its head to the right, eyes wide, lips pulled back, only to look, of all things, _frightened_. It was over so quickly that Armin figured he had imagined it, perhaps having been so used to the changes in Eren’s expressions. But it was enough to make him feel nauseous, to imagine in that split second that it was Eren with his head turned back, eyes wide, grimacing and waiting for impending death.

The blade hit home with such precision that the Titan was dispatched almost immediately. There was even a delay in the steam that rose from its body, as if it had been stunned even after it died.

“That was refreshing,” Levi finally said, still wiping at his hands. He still looked just as disgusted, perhaps now moreso for the blood coating the tile underneath the Titan or the rancid smell that was quickly filling the room.

“So, that was it? That’s how my punishment had to go?” Armin asked, watching the surrounding scientists as they observed the quickly rotting corpse.

“In a sense, but not completely. Erwin chose this Titan for a reason,” Levi replied. He tucked his handkerchief away, but didn’t look completely satisfied. Regardless, he nodded in a direction toward the edge of the balcony, where a lone scientist was sitting. She seemed to be younger than Armin, exceptionally pretty with light blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She wasn’t writing anything down, instead staring dolefully down at the corpse. “That was the Titan’s attending researcher. She was responsible for the entire team, so after the incident, her punishment was to watch her Titan get executed.”

Armin felt an immediate pang of sympathy in his chest. Then, it was followed by dread. If something _did_ happen and Eren had to be killed, Armin would also have to watch, just like the girl did.

“Worse yet,” Levi tacked on, gathering himself up to leave. “This Titan was codenamed. There’s nothing sadder than to lose something you’ve named. It means you have attachment to it.”

As they began to leave, Armin turned to look at Levi expectantly. “What was its name?”

“Ymir,” Levi answered, already walking out the door.

Neither of them saw the girl lower her head into her hands, her back shaking with silent sobs.


	10. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh gosh I can't apologize enough for how late this came, and again for how short this is. Like, I haven't written anything under 2,000 words in a long time. However! There's a reason for this (since actually this originally came with another part), as this is serving as an intermission. I'm not taking a break or anything, and actually the next chapter should come out far faster than this did! This just serves to lead up to a long-needed time skip and essentially a second part to the fic as a whole. :D We're not quite at the end, but we're getting there!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented and gave kudos and were generally awesome. ;w; I love all of you so much omg.
> 
> Two other things! I now have a writing blog aside from my regular Tumblr. You can still follow me at radiojamming.tumblr.com, but you can also start following schriftstel.tumblr.com if you want to see more writing or headcanon parties or anything like that. :D This fic is getting some side stories and mini-vignettes that are going to be on there, so it might be worth a look if you're interested!
> 
> Secondly, there's more amazing fanart that pretty much caused my voice to hit the sound barrier in terms of screaming. GO SEE! http://jamminplanet.tumblr.com/post/61454545465/so-ive-been-reading-this-fic-found

It was hard to forget. No matter how much Armin tried to occupy himself with something else, something that he considered utterly thought-consuming to the point of tedium, it never helped. It was always that combined image of an executed Titan and a stunned, mortified scientist. In reality, Armin knew that he was _supposed_ to remember it, to have it burned into his memory until, he assumed, the day he died. Unfortunately, it was doing just that and it was far more upsetting than he expected.

The Titan’s execution might have been enough. Yes, the message would have gotten across perfectly clear; Eren will die if you don’t watch what you do or say. There might have been a sleepless night involved after that, but it wouldn’t leave him curled up on a chair in front of Eren, trying his damnedest to stop picturing Eren tied to dark tile, waiting for his death.

“I would have to watch you die,” he explained, watching Eren’s eyes dilate, shrink, twitch back and forth as he thought about what Armin was saying. “You would be strapped down and killed and I’d sit there and watch it all happen.”

Explaining it out didn’t help. Even that comforting stream of endless data that came with research didn’t soothe him in the least. All that resulted in it was Eren staring at him, looking mildly horrified.

“I don’t want to have that happen,” he concluded miserably.

He figured he’d end the session sitting in silence, caught up in a haze of his own thoughts and remembering the face of the young scientist until he finally would get up and shuffle away. However, Eren didn’t seem content with that. With a grunt loud enough for Armin to hear, Eren jerked his head toward the door to the catwalk, his eyes narrowed. If his expression didn’t clearly say ‘ _get out here now_ ’, Armin was sure he didn’t understand Eren as well as he thought.

Hesitantly, he rose off the chair, walking to the door. For the past few days, the catwalk had been permanently extended, as Armin had been using it enough that he figured it was more like a waste of time to set it back. It didn’t bother Eren, as the Titan poked and prodded it, curious about the strange piece of machinery when Armin wasn’t standing on it.

Without a word, Armin opened the door, flinching slightly when the coolness of the container breezed by him. He walked out and stood directly in front of Eren, who was breathing oddly hard, nostrils flaring with every exhale.

“You’re... upset?” Armin tried, leaning his arms on the railing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. It was pretty stupid of me. I guess I was sorting my thoughts out verbally.”

Evidently, Armin was wrong. Eren grunted again, muscles in his face tightening so that his usual grimace seemed wider, the strong hints of a frown evident. He even gave a sharp jerk of his head, halfway between shaking and twitching. Armin could almost _hear_ Eren calling him an idiot.

“Well, I don’t get it! Normally I’m good at understanding you!” he shot back.

Eren rolled his eyes, as if he was trying to speak to a toddler. His mouth opened slightly, closed just as quickly with a quiet _clack_ of his teeth. He seemed to reach some inner resolution at last, and while he didn’t look any more content with Armin, he at least looked a little relieved with himself. It was an odd thing to watch, but the changes were obvious regardless of how little his face could move in reality.

Eren was perpetually surprising, always doing something different than Armin expected, or translating his own thoughts into something that Armin could understand. If Armin was right, that human side of him, regardless of how small it might have been, was coming closer to the surface with every passing day. It seemed like emotional moments like this, things that dealt with death or enormous changes, brought it up more and more.

So Armin watched as Eren lowered his head down to Armin’s current height. It wasn’t an unusual position to take, as Armin often asked him to do so when taking his vitals or taking samples, or sometimes just speaking to him naturally. Almost always, though, it was Armin who had to ask. Eren rarely did it by himself. Then, Eren closed his eyes, bringing his face close to the railing so that his left cheek just brushed the metal.

 _No way_ , Armin thought, eyes widening at the sight. There was that familiar low rumble that came from deep in Eren’s chest, typically denoting contentment. This time, though, it was edged with a quiet, sonorous sound, just barely audible. Something like a low whine, or a hum. What ever it was, Armin assumed it came from some negative emotion in Eren, whether it was concern or just general unhappiness. He wasn’t pleased with things, and in a painfully human way of showing so, he was asking to be comforted. That was more shocking than anything, and it caused something in Armin to strain painfully, to rally against his own emotions in a way that he had been denying for some time now.

“You need to stop doing stuff like this,” Armin said quietly, reaching out and running his hand over Eren’s cheekbone. “You’re starting to make me think stupid things.”

Eren’s left eye cracked open, enough for Armin to see one dilated pupil staring at him. Then, the Titan closed his eyes and hummed again.

It was all so ridiculous, so strange and sudden and probably deeply rooted in some awful tangle of emotion that Armin had been feeling since the execution. He felt sick, somehow. Unwell enough that his thoughts scattered and the only thing keeping him grounded was the sight of his own hand, fingers splayed, running against the fantastic anatomical patchwork that was Eren. In that moment, _everything_ was Eren, and Armin found himself hating it in a way that he couldn’t explain.

He was too attached, so close now that he was sure that if the same fate befell Eren was the same as Ymir’s, Armin could never return to the scientific field. He didn’t know what he would do, only that he would have to turn his back on his work for the sake of a Titan that just happened to have miracles encoded into his genetics.

 _I’m being an idiot_ , he mused, teeth leaving a scarlet imprint on his bottom lip. Reckless, stupid at best and brainless at worst. It was no wonder that Levi was so adamant on punishing him, as the director was observant, and probably knew how deep that anchor of attachment had gone.

Armin didn’t realize that tears had been leaving itchy, warm streaks on his face as he was caught up in the mismatched mess that his mind was becoming. He sniffed quietly, unsurprised when Eren blinked once in order to look at him with concern.

He didn’t know what to say, or what to think. It was all so confusing and even after so much training, so much schooling that had left him to think logically, repetitively, and above all else, critically, he was left with nothing but tatters where his thoughts had been. There was just one thing left, one solid statement that ebbed and flowed in importance every time he ran his hand over that smooth warmth of Eren’s skin.

 _I love him. Goddamnit, I love him_.

He wanted to laugh, to sob, to do anything but stand there abashed at his own idiocy with tears running down his face.

Eren was a _Titan_. He wasn’t a human who could reciprocate or understand how complex all of this was. Even if the past had been different, Armin couldn’t predict the future, or even know in the present how human Eren was. For that matter, how could he fall in love with a Titan? How could he find some sort of attachment, or desire for something that looked so monstrous? It made him feel even more sick, and with his free hand, he clenched the fabric of his shirt above his stomach. His grip was painfully tight, knuckles bone-white against the dark coloring of his shirt.

Yet regardless of his own mental protests, his better sense, he continued to touch Eren. His fingers drew through dark hair, memorizing the coarseness of every strand and burning it into his memory like a brand.

Finally, he leaned over the railing enough that he was standing on his toes, feeling the fold of the leather of his shoes pressing against his skin. One hand clenched in Eren’s hair, the other gripping the railing tightly. With great care, even combined with rampant, feverish thoughts, he leaned over enough that he could rest his head against Eren’s cheek. The closeness, the heat of it was all so comforting, setting him a little more at ease, allowing him to relax enough that even though his worries didn’t completely disappear, they were sated for the time.

Eren pressed against him, moving his head so that Armin didn’t have to struggle to be close to him. The hum changed in pitch, lowering almost a whole octave. It was comforting in its constant drone, allowing Armin’s mind to settle and just to _focus_.

“I promise you... and I do promise you things an awful lot,” he whispered against Eren’s skin. “You won’t die.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I'm a little late for Eremin Day, but I'm just going to go ahead and christen this chapter as a belated part of it! Huzzah!
> 
> Not a whole lot to say on this chapter, other than that yes, there's a time skip, and also some story time! I also can say that the past few episodes of the anime have really been inspiring as far as Armin's developing characterization. Here's to hoping I do him justice!
> 
> Finally, more (super fantastic amazing jnbsjgbvhjsb KEYSMASH WORTHY!) fanart! http://lightsbridgearts.tumblr.com/post/61929546646/so-i-got-directed-to-the-liquid-engineers-fan GO LOOK AT IT! IT'S GLORIOUS!!

No one was entirely sure where Titans had come from. Recorded history was, until recently, patchy at best, with mismatched timelines and facts that didn’t quite add up. The idea that history could help prevent future mistakes was ignored. People favored the new and recent, idealized the future without ever realizing the footsteps they were walking in. Of course, everyone had questions, and some even had theories. There were some that were well-accepted, and others that raised eyebrows. But one had been nearly lost to time, forgotten in a dusty, hoary library that people rarely frequented.

The book it was written in had obviously been rendered unkindly by the hands of time. Its spine was threadbare, the letters etching out its title now completely illegible. If the section it was housed in hadn’t been neglected, it probably would have been thrown out without a second thought.

Most of its contents contained old legends, metaphoric stories, fables, and adages from another time. One legend, however, was different than the others. While most stories in it were about the importance of family, how children shouldn’t lie, and typical things like that, this legend concerned something greater.

‘ _Once, long ago, the world was dominated by Man. Every corner of the map was staked with a claim, dotted with kingdoms and massive cities, patched in by villages and hamlets. Man was a naturally greedy creature, and thirsted for land, money, and power. The smaller the map became, the more bloodthirsty Man was. Wars were waged over tiny strips of land, hardly anything worth mention if it weren’t for Man’s insatiable pride. Many people were lost in this tumultuous time, and as wars waged, plagues descended upon the world. Widows and orphans mourned in the streets, and kings and queens ignored them in favor of sating their endless appetite for power._

_Man’s enemy was itself, and in that, was the only species of creature that was so intent on destroying itself. Man also has a tremendous fear of death, and so not all were content with this state of things. Some wished for something greater, something so destructive that Man would soon have to turn their spears and swords away from each other and unite for the cause of destroying something else._

_Although little is known of the source, there once came a day when the sun began to set on Man’s time, and a great being known as the Colossus took its first steps onto the land. It was a terrifying thing to behold, as it was larger than any castle, taller than any tree, and took breaths of fire and smoke. It crushed whole villages with a simple step forward, cracked the crust of the world as it moved, caused the earth beneath Man’s feet to tremble._

_Finally, Man ceased its useless wars for a moment to stop the Colossus. It focused on destroying the monstrosity, using combined resources and power to fight it. Many were lost, but victory was gained in time. The nations celebrated, and Man for a moment bathed in its own glory. But, the way of Man is not so simple, and never content._

_Wars began to start when Man began to fight over who struck the deciding blow to the Colossus. Then they fought over who could take the gilded remains of the monster as trophies. The world returned to an endless strife, and that was when the greatest of wars began._

_Beings like the Colossus began to appear. They were terrible creatures, resembling both man and beast. They crawled across the land, devouring every man, woman, and child in their path. Many began to wonder if they were the same type of being as the Colossus, and if their sources were the same. But with so many creatures, it was impossible to find their source. Death was draped like a macabre veil over the kingdoms and nations. Blood spilled into the rivers and streams. Although Man fought back for power and glory, the numbers of these beasts reduced Man to fighting for desperation of its own life._

_As Man began to recede inward to protect itself, it formed great walls to keep the monsters out. It fought with tremendous strength, but this did little to defend it. Soon, Man found itself backing away, too weak to fight for itself, too poor to return to its former glory, and too dejected to ever grasp its past pride. Man was defeated, and with this revelation came a short period of peace and shame. The shame was that the monsters seemed to give up when Man stopped fighting back. The peace was an unsettling one._

_In this tenuous contentment, some still wondered of the source of these beasts. They questioned why they came in the steps of the Colossus, and why they hungered for the taste of Man. Perhaps the greatest revelation was ignored, or that those caged within the walls were too afraid to admit._

_Man’s greatest enemy is itself._ ’

\---

Three months after the execution, after Armin admitted something to himself that he pushed far back into the recesses of his mind, there were some changes taking place. The first was one of Armin’s own devising. In order to keep himself in check, and to keep both Levi and Hanji acutely aware of everything, they began a weekly check-in at Levi’s office. Every week, Armin would bring every document he had written since the past check-in and give it to Levi, on top of giving his own oral report. At first, he felt like he might have been annoying Levi with it, but the director actually seemed pleased by the change, adding that it certainly kept him a little more at ease.

Of course, there were things Armin didn’t add to his reports. He didn’t talk about how he felt when Eren gave him slow, doleful looks when he talked about what humanity was like. He didn’t include how his chest tightened every time Eren nuzzled his head against Armin’s hand. Things like that would probably make Levi think that Armin had lost his mind. Armin wasn’t entirely sure if he hadn’t already.

Emotionally, things were complicated. Scientifically, it was far more fantastic. Hanji had taken the opportunity with these weekly check-ins to scribe her own notes, comparing and contrasting to the notes of other researchers throughout the facility. Despite Eren’s possible origins, Hanji still used the data to form a more detailed picture of Titans on a whole. Eren was mercifully good about testing, no matter how many samples they had to take or how many times he had to be prodded and poked.

That was another change. Armin no longer took his samples to the main laboratory, as Levi suggested that perhaps it was another concerned scientist that had found the samples that ended in Armin’s warning. Placing the samples in the hands of others that weren’t in the tiny group Armin had seemed to form now seemed too risky. Instead, he delivered them to Hanji, who went over them with a fine eye and disposed of them completely afterward.

As Armin and Hanji began to link all the details together, Armin decided that the next best thing to do as part of the project was to continue drawing Eren’s human side upward. Of course, the theory still wasn’t proven, as Levi had added. He admitted to being a bit of a devil’s advocate, but wisely reminded them that Eren still could have been an extremely abnormal Titan. Although the skin samples hinted toward a human origin, they still didn’t have that solidity in proving it as complete fact. Armin hoped to change that.

That was why he began speaking to Eren more, bringing lists with him filled with topics like food, scenery, technology, architecture, and history. His hope was that there would be something he could talk about that would spark some familiarity. There were a few things that did, like mentions of beef (Eren salivated a little), different types of trees (he rolled his eyes, obviously bored), a story about an endless sea of salt water (his eyes widened and he leaned in closer to hear the rest), and snow (he actually shivered). Armin meticulously recorded every reaction, progressively more delighted with each one. Hanji was even more excited, often grabbing Armin in an iron-grip hug that forced all the air out of him.

Armin did notice that with each interaction with Eren, they became more and more comfortable in each other’s company. That wasn’t to say they weren’t close before, but Armin likened this development to being in the presence of an old friend. Sometimes he wouldn’t speak, instead sitting cross-legged on the catwalk and doing paperwork while Eren would walk around, or watch him in curiosity. Sometimes Eren would get bored, snorting loudly to get Armin’s attention. The Armin would start talking to him, telling him stories that his grandfather told him, or how his day was going, or his plans for the next day. The idle talk made Eren content, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to lean against the catwalk and watch Armin with a sleepy, half-lidded expression.

“He really likes to hear people talk,” Armin said during one of his check-ins. “Honestly, I think you could talk all day and he’d be completely alright with that.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, then glanced over to Hanji who was scribbling furiously in a notebook. “He hasn’t said more than fifty words at most, Hanji. You can’t have that much to write down.”

“I’m writing down every word he says,” she returned without breaking her concentration. “It’s for science,” she tacked on.

With a sigh and a shrug, Levi nodded for Armin to continue.

“I think I’m going to start bringing books in,” Armin added with a smile. “He knows at least a few letters, enough to write his name out. Maybe reading to him might bring a few memories back.”

“Is he a toddler or a Titan?” Levi replied, but didn’t seem agitated by the suggestion.

Hanji, on the other hand, looked completely thrilled. “That’s a fantastic idea! Reading is a pretty fundamental human ability, and it’s things like that which separate our species from others. If he can even understand story progression, or really timelines in general, that would be a huge bonus for proving your theory!”

“Exactly,” Armin said, nodding with a growing smile. “Not only would it be an enormous step for him alone, but it might also help him with his own memories. He already seems to recall a few things, like his interactions with Mikasa. If he can recount how linear progression works, it might be able to help him sort out his own thoughts in the end. Maybe it’s too optimistic of a theory, but I’m honestly beyond willing to test it.”

Hanji was ecstatic, throwing her hands up with such a gusto that Armin was surprised that the notebook didn’t go flying. “Fantastic!” she cheered. Then she turned to face Levi, her glasses glinting in the afternoon light, the grin on her face so wide that Armin felt his cheeks sting sympathetically. “Levi, you _have_ to approve this,” she said, halfway between morbidly serious and outright manic.

Naturally, Levi’s expression didn’t change during the entire explanation. He remained perfectly collected, if not a little annoyed at Hanji’s outburst. Regardless, he didn’t look angry or that he was thinking that all of this was perfectly ridiculous. Then again, he didn’t look like he was thinking about anything in particular.

“I’ll give it a tentative approval,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “Of course, I want a full report of every session, just as you’ve been doing. The moment something goes wrong, it’ll be terminated on the spot.”

“Yes, sir,” Armin said, fighting back a grin as he gave a partial bow of gratitude.

“And _you_ ,” Levi said, pointing to Hanji without sparing her a glance. “You’re to attend one of these sessions and give your own report.”

Even though she still looked excited beyond belief, Hanji stuck her bottom lip out. “Just _one_?”

“Would you like _me_ to sit in on them instead?”

The speed at which Hanji backpedaled was astounding. She waved her hands frantically in front of her face, her grin more cockeyed. “N-no! Totally not necessary! I’m totally content with just one!”

“That’s what I figured.”

\---

Armin decided that there was a lot more work to put into his new project than what he had initially planned. Levi had planted into his head that there was a possibility of something going wrong. It led Armin to pick and choose his book ideas with more care. Going through his personal library, he realized most of the fiction books he had were complicated, with stories of war and strife, multitudes of types of conflict, and a subject at present he wanted to avoid, being romance. With a dismal expression, he tried to find anything that he could be certain would not upset Eren.

Finally, he settled on children’s books to start with. Books with simple fables and tales that parents would tell children in order to get them to behave or have better manners. The stories were easy, the message behind them clear, and the underlying context of social behavior was certainly fitting the situation. Armin did have a difficulty explaining some social customs to Eren, who typically favored just staring blankly at Armin, either from boredom or lack of understanding.

This led him to go to the library closest to his house. He hadn’t gone there in years, usually opting for going to the school’s library or the one closest to the research facility. Besides, a good portion of the books in this library were outdated as far as factual information. The building itself was in good repair, but the inside was certainly losing its luster. The smell alone, a mixture of the musky smell of old pages and the deep scent of wood, was something nostalgic, and Armin spent a moment just standing in the foyer, taking in a deep breath.

Regardless of changes in information, or the date of publishing, Armin had always had a love affair with books. His grandfather had a collection to be enviable of. Most of the texts were hard to come by, especially as materials became scarce. He also had some that he quietly assured Armin weren’t exactly the most legal to possess, and naturally, Armin read those the most. Often, he had lulled himself to sleep dreaming of endless stretches of water, shining like crystals in the sunlight. Even now, at his age, he would imagine it when sleep was hard to come by.

After a slow, painful look from the librarian at the head desk, Armin delved into the shelves, running his fingers over cracked spines and gilded leather. Most of the shelves and books had a fine layer of dust like a pale grey veil. It made everything look all the more ancient, and Armin had to ponder the true age of the building itself.

The children’s section was limited, as the library wasn’t the type to cater to a younger crowd. However, he recognized some of the books from his childhood, and with some fondness, took a few from their shelves as gently as he could, as if they were made of porcelain rather than paper, and paged through them.

Most of them were simplistic, with morals heavily suggested throughout so that they were more clear than translucent. A good portion of the stories included humanized versions of animals, with sly foxes and clever crows, or hardworking ants and lazy locusts. Again, he felt the warm sweep of nostalgia.

He turned the page of one of the oldest ones, with a spine that had letters so faded that it was any wonder the book was still holding together at all. It had a few witticisms and some typical animal-related stories, but there was one thing that stuck out. The page he turned to bore embossed, dull-colored images of large, hulking beasts that bore the barest resemblance to man, standing beneath a massive, gold-shaded figure. In its shadow were ruined homes, scorched scars on the earth, and the silhouettes of weeping women and men begging for mercy. It was already unusual given the context of the rest of the book, but that wasn’t the reason that Armin’s pulse nearly stopped when he saw it.

The monsters looked exactly like the Titans he had seen in the past. Some stood on two legs, others crawling on four. A few bore some human features, some uncanny in their flatness. Regardless of how they physically looked, they were massive fixtures on the picture’s skyline, their heights disturbingly accurate.

Armin read through the accompanying story, his fingers slowly trailing over the lines as he read them. His lips moved silently, eyes straying on certain words or phrases that seemed especially important.

Then, as he read the last line, he felt as if his stomach had been frosted over with ice. There was a moral there, certainly. Humanity could be deadly to itself, and war was the answer to nothing. But there was something more, something that made the story itself alarming. Yes, it was a story of morality, but it didn’t fit in with the childish themes of the rest of the book. It was as if the story had been intended to be read separately, distant from everything it was surrounded by. The last line, while typically interpreted as the final moral line, seemed now more like a code, a riddle meant to be solved by someone familiar with it.

He stared at it, looking over every mark of ink on paper, every tiny detail in the printing itself as if the truth was secretly etched in the embossing.

“I’m right,” he finally concluded, his voice a hoarse whisper. He looked to the other page, of the gold-colored figure that seemed to block out the sun. Carefully, he traced the outline of it, not really thinking of its shape or size, but of the truth behind it.

According to the story, some had wished for destruction, for something to happen to cause humanity to fight for one common goal. If science could capture these beasts, kill them with enough skill, experiment on their parts by deconstructing them to their core, it wasn’t hard to imagine that once, long ago, someone might have had the skill to create them in the first place.

He thought of Eren, with eyes like a human, imploring Armin to continue with his stories of the outside world, progressively becoming more and more invested with each story that was told. These weren’t the thoughts and actions of a Titan, but a human. A human who had, at some unfortunate part in his life, become a monster. He had become humanity’s greatest enemy, trapped in a body not his own, forced to watch his own psyche drift away with each passing day.

Armin’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes going wide.

“If they were all humans once,” he said softly, dull fingernails suddenly clenching at the image of the Colossus. “If they were people who just... lost their humanity.”

It made far more sense than it should have. Weak-willed people could have given in instantly, faltering and becoming the monster in a matter of moments. Eren, on the other hand, was oftentimes stubborn, and the clarity in his eyes seemed to spell out his personality for him. He wasn’t weak in the least, not prone to give in, and certainly not one to leave the final good part of him to drift away. If anything, he was now holding onto it with a tighter grip.

If this was true, even if it was just a story in a children’s book of fables, then Armin had more hope than ever. He couldn’t save the others, but he had a chance at saving one of them.

Suddenly, he thought of the young scientist at the execution. Her eyes, so full of abject sadness that Armin couldn’t help but feel the utmost sympathy for her. The fear in the Titan’s eyes as it waited for death.

It made Armin realize one thing: there was a Titan like Eren that he hadn’t been able to save.

\---

“I need to know the name of the scientist that was in charge of the Titan I saw executed.”

Hanji looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind. They stood out in the hallway outside of Levi’s office, Armin with the storybook under one arm, a look of absolute desperation on his face.

“...Can I ask _why_?”

He bit down on his lip, his fingers tightening on the book. “It’s... look, it’s just really important and I _promise_ you I’ll explain everything later, once it all comes together. And you know I always do! I haven’t missed a check-in once, and I always tell you everything.”

She frowned at him, eyebrows raising. “Woah, Armin, it’s okay! I trust you!” she said, putting her hands up in mock surrender.

Armin let out a quiet sigh, running one hand through his hair. “I know,” he replied quietly. “I just don’t want to look absolutely crazy right now. I’m pretty sure half the facility already thinks I am.”

“I don’t!”

He allowed himself to crack a smile. “Thanks, Dr. Zoe.”

She returned the smile, albeit more sympathetically. “I’ll do what I can,” she assured, patting him on the shoulder. “Until then, go see Eren. I’m sure he’s nearly paced himself to death waiting for you. Did you read anything to him yet?”

“Ahh, not yet? I mean, I decided to go through the book first to make sure everything was suitable. I don’t want to accidentally set him off, even though I’m pretty sure nothing would happen.”

He was only being partially honest, and really, it felt worse not to just tell Hanji everything he now thought, and everything he had found. He could practically feel the image of the Colossus through the book under his arm, burning like a brand or a tattoo against his skin. It taunted him, and it made it even harder to speak to Hanji without spilling everything. There was nothing that was keeping him from saying it, other than he just wanted one theory to himself to uncover, one thing he could work on even in his own head and not risk losing his job, or worse, Eren. He didn’t want any more warnings, or punishments like what he had witnessed. He didn’t want any more guilt to eat away at him like he now felt at realizing what Ymir could have potentially been.

So, dutifully, he stayed quiet. He felt like perhaps, to make him feel better about his decisions, he was simply exercising his right to lie to his superiors.

“Well, go for it!” Hanji suddenly said, pumping a fist in the air. “Time waits for no unread book! I’ll try to get the name for you, but you go and educate the education-starved. Do your duty as a researcher!”

She didn’t wait for a reply, instead opening the door to the office again and darting it, but not without pausing for a moment to give Armin a quick, excited wave. Before he could wave back, she was gone, and he was left in the hallway by himself.

Slowly, he made his way to the elevator, staring down at the carpeting while contemplating the gravity of what he was doing and what he was doing it _for_. His mind was really his last safe haven. He had no family left, no real friends that he could honestly trust, and had the looming possibility of making a mistake in front of his superiors to consider. He convinced himself that a lie was enough to make his mind a safe, final refuge in the entire mess that he might have potentially uncovered.

However, was it really as much of a mess as he thought? Or was that simply spiraling from the idea that there was a Titan much like Eren that had been killed? After all, he had held the theory that Eren had human roots, and he had considered that Eren might have even been _born_ human. Mikasa’s story had assured him that the theory by itself wasn’t unfounded in the least. The story and the revelation that followed seemed to assure this train of thought to continue, that maybe her brother could have become a Titan, or as she said, might have been somehow reincarnated into one. Indeed, as he had thought before, nothing was impossible. But that sort of thinking also made him not want to speak about it at all.

He trusted Levi and Hanji as superiors, but word obviously got to them somehow that Armin had made a mistake. He wasn’t sure of the sort of connections and acquaintances they kept. No, he certainly didn’t want to be paranoid about it, but the book _had_ assured him that humanity’s worst enemy was itself. The gravity of that statement was becoming more poignant with every moment.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished this chapter at last! I'm not entirely sure why this took me so long to write, other than maybe I was sick and achy for a few days. But hey, it's done! Yay!
> 
> Also, yep, I finally set the number for the final chapter! Only a few to go. ;w; I'm really excited for writing out the rest of this. 
> 
> And just a quick note of fun, that there's even more awesome fanart from jamminplanet.tumblr.com who is an absolute sweetheart and made me have like happy fangirl flustery time. I won't clog this with links, but if you check her tumblr (OR BETTER YET, FOLLOW HER DANGIT) or the '#fic: the liquid engineers' tag on tumblr (along with every other tag related to it, I think), you can see all of her beautiful artwork and possibly flail and screech happily over it like I did. uwu <3

Her name was Christa Renz, and surprisingly, she had been in the field for nearly the same amount of time that Armin had. Essentially, their time in the research field had nearly paralleled each other, give or take a few months. According to Hanji, Christa had been assigned Ymir two months before Armin was assigned Eren. Ymir was, by nature, notoriously vicious, and it had been viewed as almost a cruel joke to give the job to Christa, who was famous in her school for being exceptionally polite and kind. Things had worked out in the end, save for the obvious, and evidently Christa had made plenty of progress on her end. Ymir cooperated for the most part, and that was what was astounding, and simultaneously depressing.

Even with the short biography Hanji had given him, Armin was instantly interested in meeting Christa. He noticed the parallel, the way that both Titans who had previously been averse to any sort of research suddenly changed their ways with the introduction of a certain scientist. With everything else that went with the case, Armin was more convinced than ever that he and Christa had handled two Titans that were human at their core.  
  
After thanking Hanji over and over for giving him an address, Armin took one of his days off to go speak to Christa. Hanji mentioned that Christa had essentially put herself under self-imposed house arrest after the execution, taking an extended vacation from work in order to do so. This suggested to Armin that there was an emotional attachment that Christa was recovering from, and for a moment, he hesitated to go, fearful that he might draw something up with her that she might not have wanted to go through again.

Regardless of these misgivings, he decided to go anyway, figuring that at worse, she might just turn him away. There was nothing illegal in visiting her, so there weren’t any repercussions on that front. Logic didn’t exactly calm the doubt gnawing at him, and it bothered him all the way to her home.

She lived in a surprisingly rundown district of town, despite having what Armin knew was a very decent salary and benefits. Most of the homes were shoved together, walls nearly touching save for an impossibly thin space between them. The homes that were owned by wealthier people were gated and locked. The rest were in various states of disrepair.

When Armin found Christa’s house, he frowned up at it. The brick and stone were dirty, the wood of the front door chipped and the door handle dented. He was almost completely sure that Hanji had given him the wrong address. Even so, he took in a deep breath and knocked, noticing how the hinges on the door rattled as he did so.

There was no answer, and Armin stood staring at the door for a few minutes, wondering if it was worth it to stay around. He gave another experimental knock, lingered for a moment, and then turned to leave. However, in his periphery, he saw movement in the window beside the door, and then the quiet click of a turning lock.

The door opened with a creak, and Christa took a careful step outside. She looked just as Armin remembered her, except that her labcoat was now replaced with a simple blouse and skirt ensemble. Her hair was tied back, her entire countenance remarkably pretty, even with dark circles rimming her eyes. Her body language suggested distrust, as she lingered near the door, taking in the sight of Armin and the paper in his hand.

He realized after a moment that he was staring, and quickly stuttered himself into conversation.

“Oh! I’m, uh-- I’m Armin Arlert. I work at the Trost Research Facility, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?” he said, fidgeting with the paper while forcing a smile that he hoped looked friendly enough.

She returned a weak smile, but looked extraordinarily exhausted. “If you’re here to talk about the execution, I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you,” she replied quietly, already starting to recede indoors.

“No, actually! I want to talk about how Ymir was, before the execution,” he explained, leaning so that he could get a better look at her.

The answer obviously surprised her, and the exhausted expression evaporated. “Y-you want to talk about her?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard him right. “Not about why she died, or what I did wrong?”

He tried smiling at her again. “Honestly, if this is anything like what I think it is, you probably didn’t do anything wrong at all.”

Relief came over her, and with a more genuine smile, she stepped back into the building, allowing Armin inside.

The house’s interior was such a stark contrast to its exterior that it left Armin reeling for a moment. Everything was clean, surfaces polished, decorations placed aesthetically so that it felt welcoming, rather than stark and unfriendly. The entire atmosphere of the house seemed to be bright and open, most of the decorum and furnishings rendered in shades of blue, with ambery-gold highlights here and there. Christa led him to the living room, where he sat on a ridiculously comfortable sofa, facing a glass-topped coffee table, with floral patterns etched on its surface. He marveled at its design while Christa nervously hovered near him like a hummingbird.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Water?” So she was an exceptional hostess on top of being gorgeous. Armin found himself already liking her.

“Um, just tea, please. Thank you,” he said quietly, watching her flit away with a newfound energy.

He took the opportunity to admire the rest of the room while listening to Christa fill a tea kettle in the adjoining kitchen. Her school degree was mounted above the sofa, a centerpiece on the wall as if to show her pride in her accomplishment. Copies of familiar paintings hung on other walls, mostly depicting castles and pastoral scenes of rolling hills and forests.

Armin found himself appreciating a large dark-colored wooden bookcase, filled to nearly beyond capacity with well-loved books. There wasn’t a single book that hadn’t been read, and the state of some of their spines denoted Christa’s particular favorites. He recognized two textbooks from the school, and wasn’t surprised to see that they had been read through just as voraciously as any other. He thought to his own copies, showing signs of wear from using them as reference.

Christa came back in with two delicate-looking teacups, placing one in front of him before sitting down on an overstuffed chair opposite of him. She cradled her own in her hands, obviously trying to look relaxed, but betraying herself by repeatedly running her index finger up and down the handle.

“What would you like to know?” she asked, the tremor in her voice barely audible.

Armin thought over what he had planned on saying, nodding to himself resolutely. “I was present at her execution, and when I went to leave, I saw you looking at her. I couldn’t help but think you were looking at her the way that I look at the Titan that was assigned to me.”

Christa regarded him with a reigned-in expression, but he could see her chest rising and falling rapidly. She kept her composure as well as she could. “Y-you feel a connection to any living thing assigned to you. I don’t think I’m so different,” she said softly. She was lying, and Armin could see the minute wince she gave as soon as she finished her sentence.

“Christa, you don’t have to lie to me. If we’re anything alike, and from what I’ve heard, we _are_ , then you can tell the truth,” he assured, choosing his words carefully.

She stayed quiet for a long moment, her hands still cradling the teacup. “Can I ask you something?” she finally said, lowering her head.

“Of course.”

“What’s your Titan like?”

Armin recognized this as an act of exchanging trust. He understood completely, knowing how dangerous the subject could potentially be. If Christa’s situation was like his, then she knew how careful she had to be. It also loomed over him that a mistake like what he had done could very well have been the same thing that ended Ymir’s life. It was any wonder that Christa was hesitant. The best he could do was show her that he was there for the same reason she was.

“He acts human,” he answered, watching her as she raised her head, eyes wide as she stared at him. He took it as a sign to continue. “He doesn’t do anything standard to a Titan. He tries to communicate, shows emotion, listens attentively even when I’m sure I’m boring him to death, and yeah, he gets _bored_. But he’s a miracle in himself, and I’ve made a connection with him that’s strong enough to assure me that if the same thing happened to him that happened to Ymir, I’d react the same way you did.”

Again, she was silent, but her hands were giving the slightest tremble, and Armin could see the ripples on the surface of her tea. Without a word, she set her teacup on the table and folded her hands in her lap. Everything about her seemed restrained, as if she was drawing herself inward to escape something. But when she looked up at him again, something in her unraveled, letting her shoulders drop, the quietest of sighs escape her.

“Even if you don’t believe me,” she started.

“I _will_ believe you,” he assured.

She watched him, searching him for something that he couldn’t identify. Maybe she was trying to see if he was lying to her. If that was the case, she evidently found him satisfactory as she nodded, more to herself than him.

“I had the theory that Ymir was something more than a Titan on the day I was given my assignment,” Christa began, running the fingers of her left hand over the knuckles on her right. She didn’t look at him while she spoke, instead watching her own hands. “At our facility, Titans like Ymir are assigned teams rather than individual researchers. Ymir was classified as violent, but everyone was sure that she had something to offer. I was designated her head researcher, and that meant I was responsible for everyone else as well. With Ymir being the way she was, I was honestly afraid that someone would be hurt as soon as our first session began. But, that didn’t happen.”

Her expression was painfully familiar. It was the same fondness that Armin had for Eren; a distant, pleasant expression of nostalgia mixed with contentment.

“She surprised you, didn’t she?” Armin offered, returning the smile with a strange warmth spreading though his chest.

“Definitely,” Christa agreed. “She was contained in this low-lying cell, since she was smaller compared to other Titans. We could either view her straight-on or look down at her from a balcony. Every time I would walk by her, she would follow me. I noticed that even if she didn’t physically follow me, she would watch me. And... well, Titans don’t do that,” she said, her voice fading as she spoke the last part.

“Eren does,” Armin added.

She looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled in realization. “Your Titan, right?”

He nodded. “That was one of the first things I noticed about him.”

“Ymir did that almost every time I walked in. Sometimes the others joked that I had an over-sized puppy on my hands. I really couldn’t understand why she was classified as violent. I guess I always knew she had the potential, but there was nothing in her body language or behavior that suggested she would lash out.”

Christa paused there, her smile fading, her hands clasping around one another in a tight grip. “I never thought that it wasn’t my fault that she died,” she said in a near-whisper. “I cared too much. I had so much faith in her and I thought that my faith alone would somehow make things work. That was stupid of me.”

“No,” Armin returned, feeling waves of sympathy ripple through him. “It’s what you should have done. Eren went through over a dozen researches before me, and only one other than myself had any faith in him. It’s that faith that keeps us optimistic, and maybe that’s just what they need.”

Christa looked like she was fighting back tears, her eyes glimmering and her bottom lip quivering just slightly. “I want to think that, Armin,” she replied, wringing her hands. “I want to think that we made progress, and that she didn’t die in vain.”

“She _didn’t_ ,” Armin assured, for once sounding just as assertive as he felt. “If it wasn’t for Ymir, I might have never come up with the theory I have now. I could have just gone on thinking that Eren was the only one of his kind. Now I know better, and now I think there’s a way we can help him, and maybe find others like them.”

Tears finally did slide down her face, and she brought her sleeve up to her wrist to wipe them away. For a moment, Armin was sure that she would tell him that he was wrong, but instead she smiled through what was obviously something very painful. “You sound so sure,” she managed, her voice sounding rough in odd contrast to its usual brightness.

“You still care about Ymir,” Armin observed, and Christa nodded. “I care about Eren just as much, and even if he did die, I’d still use that research to keep _trying_. For all I know, of all the Titans that have ever been captured and observed, there might be dozens more like him. If I can even hope for that much, then I think I’m doing something right.”

Even with her hand over the lower half of her face, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, Christa seemed to consider that. She stayed silent, sniffling permeating the absolute quiet. Then, slowly, she got up, walking with careful steps to a room connected to the living room. Armin thought with some degree of paralytic fear that he could have said something wrong, and caught in that thought physically felt the blood drain from his face. Only when Christa returned with a dark green folder in her hand did he allow himself to think elsewise.

She resumed her seat, holding the folder in her hands as if it was one of her most prized possessions. Armin knew what it was without her saying a word.

“I think you’ll believe me, even though other people didn’t,” she said, staring down at the folder. “I’ve had scientists and politicians come to talk to me, and even though they asked me to explain everything as honestly as I could, I wasn’t telling them what they wanted to hear.”

There was a new resolution in her eyes, and immediately as it manifested, the tears stopped. Armin could only think that Christa was a far stronger person than she appeared.

“Ymir only hurt those people because she was defending herself,” she explained, her voice completely level, her resolve audible. “They were novice scientists, and even though she was typically calm, they provoked her. She didn’t intend to hurt them as badly as she did. I _know_ she didn’t.”

She didn’t elaborate on what they did, and Armin chose not to ask, certain that Christa was exhausted of drawing up the same terrible memory. Instead, Christa quietly handed the folder to him, her hand lingering on it for a moment before she let it go. He accepted it with both hands, trying to silently communicate to her that he understood how extraordinary this was, and how precious it was to her.

“With what you’ve told me,” Christa said. “I think my work’s better off in your hands. At least Ymir might be able somehow to live on if you can use it.”

“Thank you,” Armin replied, inclining his head respectfully. The potential of it was enormous, and the trust that he knew Christa allowed him was massive in itself. It was just another reason to keep his promise to Eren, because now he took on the mantle of promising another Titan the same thing. He would treat Ymir as a human, as she should have always been treated.

\---

Christa truly had cared for Ymir, and it was obvious in every sentence written in the file. Her day-to-day observations were detailed, and there were charming addendums like smiley faces drawn in the margins of notes declaring some amazing thing Ymir had done that day. Even things as seemingly small as Ymir paying attention when Christa spoke were treated like fantastic achievements. She was Ymir’s cheerleader, with every intention of helping her the same way Armin wanted to help Eren.

He mused on this as he sat cross-legged on the catwalk, folder spread open in his lap as he reread some of the contents. He and Eren had settled into comfortable silence again, with Eren occasionally sighing in what could very well have been boredom. He didn’t know what Armin was reading, and Armin wondered if that was for the best.

As pleasant as most of the observations were, Armin couldn’t help but feel some kind of abject sadness. All of the notes were written with optimism, sounding so innocent in comparison to what happened in the end. Christa had no sense of what was to happen in a matter of months, and so continued cheering Ymir on, always hoping for the best. Not only did she lose all of her work in a second, but she lost someone very close to her, someone she cared immensely for. Armin felt a sympathetic pang of loss and promptly shut the folder. Eren looked up at him, tilting his head in confusion.

“Don’t let me read this again,” he said with a forced laugh, setting the folder aside.

Eren seemed crossed halfway between curious and concerned, demonstrating it by nudging his head against the railing.

With a sigh, Armin stood up, crossing the space between him and the railing to resume stroking Eren’s hair, a habit he had happily picked up. The repetitive movements calmed him, and seemed to have the same effect on Eren as well.

As he did so, he wondered if Christa ever regretted getting close to Ymir, or maybe in reverse, that she might not have gotten close enough. The moments they had were fleeting, which while philosophical in nature, was now proven completely true. When Armin thought about it in the perspective of his own life, he was certain that he couldn’t regret getting close to Eren. Even if something happened and they could never see each other again, he wouldn’t regret a second of it. The only thing he might regret is that he didn’t spend enough time with him.

With that, he leaned back, causing Eren to blink at him questioningly. “Come here,” Armin ordered, gesturing to a space closer to the railing. Eren obeyed, bringing his head closer, still looking positively bewildered.

Without another word, Armin leaned in, resting his forehead on the bridge of Eren’s nose. Once Eren seemed to realize that Armin wasn’t going to move, he sighed contently, and Armin could feel the warmth of his breath through his clothes.

“You know,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. “You’d think a graduate with recommendations from university professors would be smarter than this.”

Eren made a low, quiet grumble. ‘ _What do you mean?_ ’

“I like you more than I should,” Armin answered. He didn’t regret saying it. He knew that if Eren were to die tomorrow, he wouldn’t regret it. “I keep thinking of you as human, and it just makes it worse. I don’t know how well I’d do if you were gone.”

Eren stayed quiet, unmoving save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Then, he leaned back, causing Armin to do the same.

Eren’s expression was almost pure determination. His brow was lowered, jaw firmly set. If Armin didn’t know better, he would have said that he was expecting a lecture. Instead, Eren placed his right hand, palm-up, in front of the catwalk. His eyes darted between Armin and his hand, and the suggestion (more of a command at this point) was clear.

The movements were nearly routine, but Armin felt that the situation was different. Eren wanted this to happen, wanted to be the one initiating and commanding the situation. Armin carefully stepped onto his hand, taking a moment to steady his stance before looking up at Eren, who was watching him intently.

Eren slowly brought Armin close to his face, even taking the extra measure of cupping his right hand with his left to keep him secure. He moved so that Armin was nearly in the same position he was at a moment before on the railing. Although Armin wasn’t entirely sure of Eren’s intention, he leaned against his cheek, his hand reaching out to the bridge of his nose and running his hand over the angular cartilage.

“So, you’re taking charge, huh?” he joked, leaning into the warmth of Eren’s skin.

Eren sighed, closing his eyes and letting Armin continue.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was hard for me to write. I mean, I'm really satisfied with it? But yeah, it was definitely a task! Hopefully it was worth it, though. uwu
> 
> Also, don't let me write fables since they'll end up sounding like a Zen koan, in that like hell they'll make sense. :C Booo, no children's book writing for me.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos, subscribed, bookmarked, and has generally been awesome! I feel fantastically lucky to have all of you! And I really like talking to everyone! So, if you ever want to chat or idk just be a rad person, I'm always up for talking, either on Tumblr or Skype! Just hit me up and you can watch me fail spectacularly at conversing, or on the flip side, watch as I fangirl into the next dimension.

Eren ended up getting incredibly invested in all of the stories that Armin read. It was definitely a credit to his growing imagination, as he now filtered through changing emotions like frustration, confusion, delight, anxiety, excitement, and sadness. He didn’t seem to like stories with lazy characters, but did show some degree of relief (or maybe vengeance, in his own way) when the moral of the story condemned them.

Once again, Armin sat on the catwalk, his back against the opposing railing so he could still face Eren. The storybook was balanced on his knees, though he gave himself enough space to be able to turn the book around easily in order to show Eren the illustrations. The comment Levi made about Eren being a toddler or a Titan made Armin grin to himself, as Eren would eagerly look at each picture, taking time to study it. Then he would flick his eyes up to Armin, then back down to the book, imploring him to continue.

The story Armin read now was one he was actually familiar with. It was a well-known fable about a tall tower with no staircase or ladder, with treasure rumored to be at its top. The story went on to tell that two men attempted to scale it, one with his bare hands in a show of strength, the other with a hook and rope in a show of wit.

“As the two men were preparing to scale the tower, a third man walked up,” Armin read, pausing only to see Eren staring at him, obviously intrigued. Armin smiled and continued. “The third man asked the other two what they were doing. ‘Hah!’ laughed the strong man. ‘You’ve obviously never heard the story! There’s a lifetime worth of treasure at the top that no man has ever got his hands on!’ The witty man nodded and continued, ‘If one is to get the treasure, they and their family will never have to worry about anything for the rest of their lives.’”

Eren grunted once, and Armin looked up to see him tilting his head. “He means that the worth of it would be enough money to take care of everything,” he explained.

There was a little enlightenment there, and Eren inclined his head. The explanation was good enough.

“‘But how do you know there’s an actual treasure?’ the third man asked, gazing up at the tower. ‘If it’s just a story, and no man has ever gotten his hands on it, how do you know it’s there?’ The strong man went to answer, but he couldn’t. Even the witty man seemed at a loss. The third man looked between them and said, ‘I don’t mean to discourage you. If you have faith that there _is_ a treasure in the tower, then by all means, pursue it.’

“The strong man grinned and decided he would do just that. He flexed his muscles and grabbed onto the stone of the tower. Slowly, he climbed up, and as the day went on, the sun seemed to get hotter and hotter. The strong man couldn’t persevere, and so returned to the base of the tower, ashamed and defeated. ‘Another time, I’ll try again,’ he said, and then pointed to the sun. ‘The sun was too hot today. I would never have made it.’”

There was an annoyed groan that had since become the signal that Eren was frustrated. Armin assumed it was over the excuse. He seemed to hate when characters made excuses.

“The witty man was next,” Armin continued with a grin. “He took his hook and rope and began to scale the side of the tower. Of course, he was much faster than the strong man, but the tower was old, and the stones were loose, and so when we went to cast his hook up again, some of the stones crumbled and he went tumbling back down to the base. Like the strong man, he was ashamed and defeated. ‘I’ll try again as well,’ he said. ‘I didn’t remember how loose these rocks were. I never would have made it.’”

There was another rumble of irritation, and Armin was beginning to wonder how close Eren was to outright roaring.

“The third man could see how disappointed the other two men were, and so came up with a plan of his own. ‘I have an idea for how both of you could get to the top. That way, you can divide the treasure between yourselves and still be rich as kings,’ he said. The other two men were intrigued, and so listened. ‘The strong man can carry the man with the rope on his back, and the man with the rope can cast the rope upward and pull to help lessen the burden.’

“At first, the other men wanted to laugh, finding the idea ridiculous. But, they were so desperate for the apparent wealth they could gain that they decided there was no harm in trying. So, the strong man carried the man with the rope on his back and they did as the third man said. Surprisingly, it worked. The strong man was even able to tell the witty man where loose rocks were, and they scaled the tower with ease.

“When they reached the top, they were surprised to find not heaps of gold and riches before them, but an old dusty chest. ‘Perhaps the riches in the chest are so rare and valuable that they will make us wealthy,’ the witty man suggested. But when the strong man opened the chest, they found only an old scroll.

“‘ _Wisdom is the greatest of all riches_ ,’ read the scroll. ‘ _If you hold this in your hand, you have succeeded in attaining this great bounty, for you have the wisdom to scale a tower with no stairs or ladders_.’ The two men took in this thought, and left with their minds richer than before. When they returned to the base of the tower, they found that the third man had left. This man already had great wisdom, and had nothing more to take. The two other men left, and found greater success in their lives from that day on.”

Armin finished, and through the illustration of two men walking back to a village nestled in a valley, he could see the shadow effect of the Colossus on the next page. With a forced smile and a sigh, he closed the book, looking up to see Eren blinking back at him, completely confused.

To be fair, the ending was strange, and broad in subject matter. It took some degree of technical thought to reason it out, which while Eren had some formidable intelligence, he didn’t quite grasp some philosophical things quite yet. “The moral of the story is that you need more than strength and wit in life, and that wisdom is worth more than money,” Armin said, setting the book beside him. “Pretty complicated, but it’s not a half bad story, right?”

Eren looked like he could beg to differ.

“It doesn’t always _have_ to make sense,” Armin stressed. “That’s kind of how stories go. I mean, ants and grasshoppers can’t actually talk, but there’s stories about them anyway.”

After a prolonged moment of silence and staring, Eren begrudgingly accepted it, even if he didn’t quite understand it. He raised his shoulders dismissively.

“Well, regardless,” Armin said. “There’s a lot more stories in there. Some not as... allegorical.”

What ever an allegory was didn’t seem to matter to Eren, but the mention of more stories brightened him up considerably.

Armin grinned at the Titan, pleased with the obvious progress. He was at least correct in that Eren could now reason out a timeline. He understood progression, and was beginning to figure out some basic philosophy, although that would take a lot more time to teach. Complex thought and theorem were things Armin could wait to explain. For now, he was simply content that Eren was making leaps and bounds intellectually, and it would be almost a reward in itself to jot that down in his file.

That led him to wonder about when he could publish his current set of data, or if he could at all. Most researchers, even with the most simplistic files ever written, typically published a set within six months to a year. Armin had the added benefit of having plenty to publish, and while he should have been proud of that, it made him worried. The entire project had been shrouded in secrecy, and if Armin had been given permission to lie to his superiors in the first place, it made him question if he had to do the same with what he would end up publishing. Would he have to make a fake report that would be released to the public? Would he even be allowed to publish his actual findings at all? It was complicated, and enough to make him nervous again.

He figured it might be best to just to go Levi to ask. The result might not be ideal, but it was better than Armin just assuming and possibly getting in trouble again. One long look at Eren was enough to make his chest tighten at the thought.

With a sigh, he stood up, walking over to the railing as Eren bent down. “I wonder how long they’re going to let me stay here,” he mused aloud, picking at a fleck of bright yellow paint with his thumbnail. “I mean, it varies from facility to facility, but I think this counts as a special case, right?”

As usual, Eren passively stared at him. A lot of things Armin said about work didn’t serve as things Eren was particularly interested in. He liked stories about the outside world, and he certainly liked those more than even hearing about himself. It was still nice to just vent, Armin figured.

“Maybe I’ll ask Levi about it when I go see him again,” he continued, reaching out his hand so Eren could put his head by it. When he did, Armin stroked his hair, finding comfort in the repetition. It was odd how at peace Eren made him feel. “I should go do that after the session’s done,” he said quietly, not really feeling particularly inclined to do it at all. After visiting Christa, he wanted to leave Eren less and less with every session. Honestly, he would have been perfectly content to just stay for the rest of the day, and Eren didn’t seem to be against it in the least.

He wondered what Eren actually thought of him sometimes. Of course, Armin had been struggling to properly define his own feelings for weeks, and an ensuing emotional battle of what the definition of love would be in this case continued even when he didn’t want it to. There was always the other side to consider, which was unfortunate as said other side couldn’t vocalize what he thought.

At best, Armin knew that Eren enjoyed his company. To what extent was unclear, but it was obvious that Armin meant something to him. He did what he could to comfort Armin when he knew the scientist needed it, and he brought Armin closer than any Titan could, both physically and metaphorically. There was a silent plea that Eren always attempted to make, in varying degrees of desperation, and likewise, Armin was just as desperate to know what Eren wanted to say.

Armin wished he could be content with what was currently unknown, but he wasn’t sure if it was the scientific side of him or the emotional side of him that wouldn’t be contented. Maybe it was a mix of both, but regardless, it was sometimes painful to look at Eren and know that Eren felt something, had the words given to him to say what it was, but lacked the means to do so. All the while Armin had the feeling, the words, and the means, but lacked the courage. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and made him feel like it was necessary to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, lowering his head. Eren made an inquisitive hum, looking up at him. Armin couldn’t even be bothered to force a smile, instead allowing that tightness that had manifested in his chest earlier to spread, making his eyes water. “You can’t speak, and I know you have all these things in your head you want to say. And I _can_ speak, but here I am just staying quiet. I’m really sorry.”

Naturally, Eren didn’t understand. He raised his head so his eyes were level with Armin’s face. There was concern again, but now some sort of demand. His brows lowered, a ridge formed in his skin near his nose. ‘ _Tell me_ ,’ he seemed to say.

“I...” Armin trailed off, gaping up at the gaze centered on him. He _could_ say everything, _could_ lay everything out right then and there and then just have to sit and regret it later. But he thought of Christa again, and thought of what regret was really like. He didn’t regret being here, didn’t regret doing something that probably seemed stupid like reading to a Titan. How much could he regret saying the words that had been bothering him for so long? He had already admitted it to himself, which was the most difficult thing he had done so far. Now Eren was asking him, and Armin had the answer, but found himself terrified to say it out loud.

“I-it’s complicated,” he managed, already cursing his trembling voice and how pathetic he sounded. He could be stronger than this. He _had_ been stronger than this. Levi and Hanji and even his own grandfather had reminded him of what he was capable of doing. Even Mikasa, who was convinced that no one would believe her, was still strong enough to admit something that obviously bothered her. And Christa, of all people, had been strong even in the face of death and loss.

Of course, Eren didn’t lose interest. His stare didn’t falter, but actually seemed to intensify.

Armin could regret saying it. He could also regret _not_ saying it. Everything seemed so dual-natured and all he could think of was how hypocritical he was for being angry about lack of progress, when he couldn’t do it for himself. So, he stood there, reaching within and summoning what ever resolve there was left in him. “Eren,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “You might not understand this, or if you do, it might not be exactly what you imagine. But...”

Damnit, his voice trailed off again. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes while he berated himself for being a coward. His entire body felt white hot, pressurized so that he was certain if he waited one more minute, he’d be likely to immolate himself from the inside out.

“I love you,” he finally said, his fists clenched at his sides, teeth gritted. “And I know that doesn’t make any sense because I’m a human and you’re a Titan. But it just didn’t seem fair to keep that from you when you’re the one who deserves to hear it more than anyone.” He was rambling. He was rambling and he hated every word that came from his mouth because it sounded so stupid and idiotic and more like the thoughts of a madman than a scientist worth any respect and--

Eren nuzzled against him so quickly that it almost knocked him over. Armin stumbled a little in order to gain back his balance before gaping up at the Titan that was now staring at him with wide eyes. Eren wasn’t angry, or really even confused like Armin expected him to be. In fact, of all the emotions that Armin expected, he didn’t expect happiness. But that’s how Eren seemed.

“Do you understand that?” he asked, cautiously approaching the railing again.

Eren nodded once.

“And you... is this your answer?”

Another nod.

He was face to face with Eren again, trying to reason everything out to the best of his ability. Somehow, he hadn’t anticipated this reaction. Eren cared for him deeply, and while ‘love’ might not have been the accurate word, there was something else. There was a bond far deeper than Armin gave credit, and now he was seeing the result of it. It wasn’t love like the human definition, but something just as unbreakable, just as strong.

Armin found himself crying again, but out of a mix of relief and outright happiness. It was like seeing Eren’s name written on the glass, like knowing that Mikasa had found some kind of answer, like knowing Eren wasn’t alone. He leaned forward against Eren’s cheek, this time clinging as though Eren would disappear if he let go. “This is so ridiculous,” he said quietly, smiling regardless. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Yet it did, and naturally, Armin didn’t regret it. So, he leaned in a little further and did the most human thing he could think of doing. He pressed his lips against warm skin, savoring the radiant heat, the sensation of Eren against him. There was nothing more he could do that could properly show how he felt, and at the moment, it felt like there was no need. The message was clear, and that bond was enough.

Armin would go to Levi’s office immediately, and request the longest extension the director could manage so that he could stay by Eren’s side. He wouldn’t accept anything less.

\---

With Eren’s folder and the book tucked safely under his arm, Armin made his way to the director’s office. His cheeks were still warm, and he was absolutely sure he was blushing, but knowing Levi, he’d make the connection and not say a word. Hanji, however, would be a completely different story. The thought made him laugh quietly to himself. He took a moment to compose himself a little better, repeating an inner mantra that Levi was still the director of the entire facility and not some close friend that was absolutely willing to hear why Armin was so giddy.

After taking a deep breath and exhaling through his nose, Armin knocked, earning an almost immediate ‘come in’ from Levi.

He opened the door, but had to double-take when he saw that Levi wasn’t alone. Erwin Smith sat across from him, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded methodically in front of his face. He regarded Armin with a nod, to which the scientist saluted quickly. Levi simply stared at him, eyes half-lidded, blinking once to even signify that he saw Armin at all.

“I’m sorry, Director,” Armin said, staring down at the floor. “I’ll come at another time. I didn’t mean to intrude on your meeting.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Arlert,” Erwin replied. He was the absolute image of resolute authority, and yet he seemed strangely kind about the whole thing. Armin couldn’t help but glance at him, completely dumbfounded. “Director Levi and I were just discussing your case.”

Armin looked to Levi, and judging by the his expression, it wasn’t a good thing. Levi looked more morose than usual, which in typical terms, meant the situation warranted some degree of panic.

“Take a seat, Armin,” Levi said calmly.

Obediently, Armin did so, hesitantly sitting down with Eren’s file now carefully gripped by both hands and the book on his lap. He could feel Erwin looking at him, but Armin couldn’t focus on anything except the floor. Every bit of happiness in him was promptly extinguished. For the President of the Research Association to be there and discussing him and having that not be a good thing was almost terrifying.

“Your research is fascinating, Mr. Arlert,” Erwin said, his polite tone a sharp dissonance to how Armin felt. “Director Levi’s done me the honor in the past of showing me what you’ve given him. I can say in complete honesty that I think you’ve done a remarkable job.”

There was an impending negative aspect approaching. Armin could feel it, and so braced himself.

“Unfortunately, the scientific community is under an inordinate amount of pressure from military brass and political interest. I’m sure that’s been made clear to you.”

“Transparently so, President Smith,” Armin answered quietly.

This time, it was Levi who spoke. “I wasn’t exactly expecting that this case would be under as much scrutiny as it was,” he said, his voice oddly stiff. “It turns out that some special interest groups felt that placing a mole in our midst was the best thing they could do. Which is pretty damn pathetic, if you ask me.”  
  
“Levi,” Erwin chided warningly, and the director fell silent. With a sigh, Erwin turned his attention back to Armin. “Trust me when I say that you’re receiving absolutely no blame for this, Armin. I’ve tried to pull as many strings as I can, but even I’m limited politically.”

“What happened?” Armin finally asked, feeling that oncoming sense of dread again.

“TF-1505 is being placed under investigation,” Erwin answered.

“His threat level is now being labeled as ‘Extremely Dangerous’,” Levi added. “Turns out said mole decided to report back that the case was ‘suspicious’. Evidently it was suspicious enough that the government decided to turn its ugly head toward us again.”

Armin felt himself go pale, his hands trembling on the file. “Y-you’re kidding,” he said, stunned.

“I wish we were,” Erwin replied, and Armin was at least soothed by the fact that he was being honest. “Again, you’re not being faulted. There was no way to know that someone was tailing this case.”

In a panic by now, Armin looked between the two men, trying to find some answer in what was now a stormy sea of questions. “Can’t I file an inquiry?” he asked, desperation seeping into his voice. “I mean, isn’t tailing a private case illegal?”

“Not for the government on a whole, no,” Levi replied, for once not able to keep an even stare with Armin. Instead, he lowered his eyes to stare at a spot on his desk.

Erwin continued in Levi’s stead. “From this point onward, you only have the privileges of a regular citizen. During the pending investigation, your position is suspended. Once the investigation is over, you’ll be reinstated immediately with no marks on your record.”

Armin knew that the statement was meant to be comforting, but it simultaneously denoted something worse. Levi seemed to pick up on this as well, and returned his gaze to Armin, now completely serious and focused.

“Armin, if I were you, I’d return home immediately. Knowing how this works, I would be almost certain that everything in your house related to the case would be confiscated by now,” he said, and Armin felt a distinct chill run through him.

Erwin looked like he wanted to chide Levi again, but thought better of it and nodded. “Unfortunately, I have to agree. Also, as a technical government employee, I also have the confiscate the file you have now.”

Everything was falling apart all at once, and Armin was so unsure of what to do. He wasn’t sure what happened, or why it happened, or why someone felt the need to label Eren as extremely dangerous when he was the complete opposite. After all that it happened, it felt as if Eren was being painfully torn away from him out of sheer spite. He found himself stunned by it all, confused and reeling in the wake of something he didn’t understand.

He thought of the theories he had written late into the night, now all gone. Every folder, file, and book he had filled would disappear in an instant. It was enough to make him start trembling, unable to figure out how to properly direct his emotions.

“Arlert,” Levi suddenly said, breaking him out of his shock for a moment. “The file.”

“Y-yeah,” Armin replied, far beyond a reasonable response. With a shaking hand, he gave the file to Erwin, who looked at him sympathetically.

“I’m incredibly sorry about this,” Erwin said. “If there was anything more I could do, I would do so.”

Armin couldn’t thank him. He couldn’t do anything beyond reeling and trying to make some semblance of sense out of it.

He could vaguely see Erwin gesture to the book on his lap, but fortunately Levi spoke for him. “One of Arlert’s theories concerned timeline progression and storytelling. It’s nothing more than a storybook from a library.”

_Just let me keep it,_ Armin thought. _Let me keep one thing_.

There was a long silence before Erwin nodded. “Very well.”

Armin wasn’t sure who it was that dismissed him, or when, or if anything else was said. He simply got up and staggered back out into the hallway, hearing the bearest murmurs of another conversation starting behind the door as he closed it.

The keycard locks on each floor had probably been changed already. Someone may very well have waited for him to leave before doing so. His card would mean nothing, and if it hadn’t happened already, showing his card down at the front desk would simply result in someone reminding him of his suspension. As soon as he exited the facility to return home, there was no way he could get back in. There was already nothing him for him there, aside from Eren now locked away.

\---

Levi’s prediction had been accurate. Everything in Armin’s home had been left the way it was, with nothing out of place except for the distinct absence of everything that related to Eren. He had raced home, hoping that they might have been wrong, but when he went through his bookshelf, searched his drawers, went through his computer, there was nothing. It was if Eren had never existed, and all that there was to remind him otherwise was the poorly-bound book now sitting on his kitchen table.

Still in shock, he sat down in one of the dining chairs, staring down at the cover. It had all happened so blindingly fast, with all the force of a whiplash. As of that moment, he was nothing more than a civilian, unemployed but with enough money to support himself for some time, but nothing else remarkable. The labcoat he still wore was now just a white jacket. His badge was still a form of identification, but was reduced to just laminated words. It wouldn’t grant him a single thing otherwise. He was just Armin Arlert, with a degree bestowing him the accomplishment of graduating, but otherwise painfully regular in every other way.

That wasn’t what bothered him. He could have cared less about himself. There was only one thought that kept cycling through his mind with all the viciousness of a monster. Eren was now labeled ‘Extremely Dangerous’. He would probably be transferred to a different facility within the week, and then would be given the same sentence that others with that label had gotten before him. The very same sentence that Ymir was given.

Eren would be executed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honeymoon's over, everybody! :D /shot gloriously
> 
> But yeah, this pretty much signifies the last leg of the fic. Thank you to everyone who's stuck around this far. uwu You're all the coolest people ever.<333


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finally finished with this chapter! I'm really sorry that this took so long, but it was strangely hard to write? Not entirely sure why, but I'm hoping it doesn't take me over a week to add the next chapter. OTL
> 
> That being said, thank you to everyone who commented or left kudos for the last chapter! The feedback kind of left me halfway between grinning like a doofus and pretty much shouting I AM SO SORRY to my screen. You all deserve a million hugs and kisses and idk what ever else you want that would make you happy, because you're amazing! Thank you so much!

Armin had a difficult time keeping track of the days that passed. Then again, he wasn’t keeping track very diligently to begin with. Everything seemed to progress in a monotonous blur. He could hardly sleep, and when he finally managed to drift off, he was plagued with nightmares that ranged from horrifically detailed to terrifying nothingness. Sometimes he dreamt of an abyss, and at times, it seemed like such a comforting thought to just plunge in. Then he would wake up, staring at his ceiling, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin, his body aching as if he had overtaxed it.

Every time he woke up, though, he always tried to convince himself that everything had been just a dream. He wanted to think that Eren’s sentencing was another nightmare, conjured up from a paranoia that had set in shortly after Armin’s first warning. But then he would get up, walking through his house that was markedly devoid of anything related to Eren, and it would all come back in a painful, heart-wrenching rush.

Of course, he didn’t hear anything about Eren after all of that. There was no way the news would get back to him at all, seeing as how Eren would be transferred to another private facility, no doubt. Unfortunately, his civilian status didn’t make him ignorant to the process. From there, some minor testing might be carried out, although Armin wondered if Eren was a special case, and they might just rush the execution. For all Armin knew, Eren could have been dead already. The only thing that kept him even slightly hopeful is the inevitable wall of paperwork that they would have to sort through. Although this supposed special interest group bypassed several laws, there was more than enough red tape to keep them near frozen for at least a few days. It wasn’t anything he could wish upon, but it helped him keep the belief that Eren was alive.

The worst part of all of that was that Armin now felt utterly useless. He had gone from being completely invested in every aspect of Eren’s life to being the very definition of disconnected. It was as if fate put him in check, and there was no way he could budge out of it. He couldn’t go to any facility and request information, as it was all private. His dream of the abyss seemed more real every time he felt that nagging sense of pure doubt, and it felt like he was already mid-leap.

However, things seemed to change right when he had the firm belief that they never would. It came one day, when the city was cast in the burnished gray of a stormy afternoon. The sky seemed to be churning like a crucible, with rain streaking silver on the windowpanes. Armin sat at his dining room table again, a cup of tea sitting untouched in front of him, having already gone cold. The storybook had made its constant home on the tabletop, although Armin hadn’t really found the initiative to open it. It left a sort of dull stinging sensation in his chest when he thought about it, and so it laid still and silent as a grave.

That day though, Armin stared at it, musing over the stories he had read, and remembering with a mixture of pain and distant happiness how Eren reacted to each. He thought to the last story he had read, and Eren’s disgust with how the characters made excuses. Although the stinging in his chest didn’t subside, he still managed the smallest of smiles. It was enough to make him reach across the table and take the book into his hands. Just one more time, he figured. He didn’t have to open it again after that.

After flipping through a few pages, he saw the familiar engraved picture of the tower, two men gazing up at it while the third man stood off to the side, a peculiar grin on his face.

“Well, wisdom doesn’t get you that far in reality,” Armin said, glancing up at the darkened window at the top of the tower.

That was just it though, he realized. Wisdom was an invaluable gift, absolutely, but if not used in tandem with other positive traits, it could be utterly useless. It was as good as holding a dull blade. A wise man could wield it, but he would need strength to sharpen it. It was a horribly belated time to realize that maybe he hadn’t gotten the complete moral of the story, although it seemed so obvious at the time. Wisdom didn’t trump any other trait.

Thinking wasn’t enough to save Eren.

He dropped the book on the table with enough force to make ripples form on the surface of his tea. Then, he mentally cursed himself for sitting around for so long, not using the very lessons he had read to Eren.

Armin had been surrounded by people who took initiative. He should have realized it with Hanji, who managed to get Mikasa into the lab even when it seemed impossible. Or Levi for that matter, who had to have bent the rules at least a dozen times just to make things easier, and who allowed Armin to do the same. That involved a lot of trust, an enormous deal of his own wisdom, and drawing from a well of personal strength that Armin couldn’t gauge.

In the end, it made him realize that he had left out an extremely pivotal part of all of this. Mikasa Ackerman deserved to know what was going to happen to Eren, if she didn’t know already. She was a greater embodiment of strength than Armin had ever seen before. She had walked away from the wreckage of her life, perhaps not for the better, but far more well off than people with half her resolve. Even if there was nothing they could do, it was far better to have someone strong by his side, so that they could get through it together.

He didn’t have to think on it any more than that. There wasn’t any risk now in going to see Mikasa, or bringing her to his home. No one would be tailing them now, so it didn’t matter. So, he didn’t resist any more than that. Instead, he stood up, feeling the warmth of his own personal resolve dissipate the remaining sting of doubt in his chest. There was an enormous chance that he wouldn’t be able to save Eren, but he would be damned if he was going to be remembered for not trying.

\---

The storm had made the training grounds a mess of mud and slippery platforms. The officers wisely called off any drills for the day due to inclimate weather, and there were no missions set for the next week or so. Armin learned from a rather helpful officer that Mikasa’s company in particular enjoyed hanging around the cafeteria on days like that, and if they weren’t there for most of the day, they would be in the barracks instead.

Christened with a visitor’s badge, Armin made his way to the cafeteria, finding it to be one of the oldest buildings on base. It seemed to be left over from another time, its base made of a conglomerate of enormous stones, holding up a support of glazed dark wood that was chipping in some places, and adorned with carved graffiti in others. It was enormous though, certainly enough to feed and house an army.

The inside had a cozy atmosphere, with roaring fires in stone fireplaces and dusty amber-colored lamps hanging from the ceiling, giving the entire place a sort of golden glow. It was starkly different than what Armin imagined, especially compared to the spartan look of the barracks and offices. It wasn’t hard to imagine why companies favored the cafeteria on their days off.

He found Mikasa rather quickly, as she was seated a table distance away from the rest of her squad, although Jean was sitting nearby, as though he was caught halfway between the group and her, but wasn’t sure who to go to. Both Mikasa and Jean caught sight of Armin at the same time, and it was Jean that seemed to be more surprised that Armin was in casual clothes.

“What, casual day at the lab?” he joked as Armin took the seat across from Mikasa.

When Armin simply frowned down at the table, Jean’s grin subsided gradually, and Armin could see him looking at Mikasa while gesturing back at him.

“Something happened,” Mikasa stated. “Nothing good, I’m guessing.”

A cold, solemn tone crept into her voice, and Armin imagined it was a defensive trait of hers. After the deaths of her family, the essential destruction of her life on a whole, it wasn’t hard to guess why.

“I’m suspended,” Armin replied stiffly, fighting to find that resolve he had felt earlier. “Evidently someone was keeping tabs on Eren’s case and didn’t like what they saw. Eren’s being labeled as extremely dangerous.”

The connotation was clear and Armin could hear Jean’s breath catch in his throat.

“You mean like, the _official_ label?” he asked.

Armin nodded.

Jean leaned back on the bench, hissing through his teeth. “Here’s to hoping they at least make it fast, right? Tough luck, though.” He turned to Mikasa as though seeking an affirmation, but was met with an icy stare that clearly jarred him. “Guessing that’s not the right thing to say,” he tried, his voice quieter than before.

Mikasa turned her head to look at Armin again, but her stare was flat, practically emotionless. It was almost frightening if Armin hadn’t been expecting it to some degree. “There’s nothing we can do, is there?” she asked, although the way she said it made it sound more like an absolute statement.

“Under most circumstances, yes,” Armin said carefully. Then, he fixed himself with a strong, even stare and set his jaw as firmly as he could. “But I’m not letting this go so easily. I figured you wouldn’t want to, either.”

That struck something in here, and he could see that familiar strength start to seep back into her features. It lit some kind of fire in her, strangely similar to that sureness and fortitude he had seen in Eren. “Do you have a plan?” she asked, but kept her voice even.

“Not really. Or, not at the moment,” Armin admitted. However, he didn’t let himself falter. Even though Mikasa was strong, she still needed reassurance, and one of the last things she needed to see was Armin breaking apart. He wanted to seem sure, not just for his own sake. Even if he made the illusion that he had some amount of control over the situation, it was better than setting the impression that he was completely powerless.

Jean, however, was not so convinced. In fact, he looked completely baffled by the whole thing, his face a mask of disbelief. “What the hell is so awesome about this Titan that you have to _plot_ about it?”

Neither Armin or Mikasa answered, the latter choosing to give Jean a condescending glare that made him shrink back slightly. When he finally murmured a soft ‘sorry’, Mikasa looked at Armin again. “Maybe I should ask what you _want_ to do,” she said.

Armin hadn’t given that much thought. There was a barricade in his mind that was constructed of thoughts like his civilian status and the impending execution, and it served to make it nigh impossible to think of anything beyond that wall. He tried to think analytically, but what he wanted was near primal at this point. He wanted to save Eren somehow, and at the moment, it didn’t seem to matter how he would go about achieving it. But he wanted to keep assuring Mikasa, even if part of it was now him just keeping himself at ease.

“I want to find a way to get back into the lab system,” he finally explained. “If it means working our way in or breaking in, at this point, it doesn’t really matter. I don’t know if anyone is still on my side about this, or if I can get any help at all, but I’m not going to stop trying because of that. If I can even _pause_ this execution, that would be better than nothing.”

Armin then noticed that several people at the other end of the table were glancing their way, and so he lowered his voice, speaking a little more conspiratorially. “If you want to help, I think it would be best to go to my house instead of staying here. Although I don’t think I’m being followed anymore, I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.”

Mikasa regarded him for a moment before nodding. Before she spoke, Jean suddenly piped in, his expression changing from confusion to something more serious, but nearly unreadable. It was strange, considering for the short amount of time Armin had known Jean, he considered the other man easy to read.

“I’d like to go, too,” Jean said, also keeping his voice down. “I’m not sure what’s going on, or why you want to save him so bad, but evidently it’s bad enough that you’re willing to throw your life through the grinder. Consider me interested.”

Mikasa looked to Armin for affirmation, and Armin could tell that something had changed. He didn’t ask Jean, as he figured it was either something Jean didn’t want to talk about or it was something he would tell Armin later. Either way, Armin nodded.

\---

The military allowed personnel to leave the base during the days off, so both Mikasa and Jean decided that if there was a time to go, that moment would be opportune. All they had to do was sign out at the office, state their general intention, and gave an estimated time of return. Both of them claimed they were just going into town for a few hours, which was the most common reason, so none of the officers batted an eye at it. They were signed out in a matter of minutes and proceeded to go to Armin’s home.

The rain had since slowed to a fine, cool mist, but it still made everything damp enough that Armin felt some of the water seep into his clothes. It was with enormous relief that they reached Armin’s house, finding it pleasantly warm. As they stepped in the door, he heard Jean let out a low, impressed whistle.

“So _that’s_ what you guys do with your paychecks. Maybe I should look into being a scientist.”

“Ah, actually this is my grandfather’s house,” Armin explained, shouldering off his coat. “I mean, I’ve added books and things like that, but everything else except some of the furniture was his.”

“No less impressive, though,” Jean complimented, tailing Armin into the living room.

After Mikasa and Jean sat down, Armin walked into the kitchen and picked up the book, opening it to the story of the Colossus. He walked back into the living room and handed it to Mikasa, who took it with a perplexed expression.

“It gives us a little more incentive to save Eren,” he explained, sitting down across from her.

Silently, she read it, her eyes flicking back and forth as she ran her hand slowly down the page. It took her only a few minutes to finish it before she handed it off to Jean, who had been attempting to look over at it futilely.

Mikasa looked like she was trying to process it, trying to pull out the meaning but doubting if it was what she thought. “So...” she started, but immediately seemed unable to finish. She was confused, and maybe even the smallest bit hopeful.

“I found it in a library,” Armin explained. “It was obvious it hadn’t been touched in years. And the story itself seems to be placed so randomly. The entire thing is a book of fables, but then there’s _that_. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“It does...” Mikasa admitted as Jean closed the book and handed it back to Armin. “But do you really think that Eren--”

“--is _human_?” Jean finished, looking completely bewildered.

Armin nodded, setting the book down on the coffee table in front of him. “I’ve had that theory for months now, but that story in particular made me start thinking that there’s a possibility that Eren can still _be_ human. So, if anything, he’s more like a human in the body of a Titan.”

“He could still be my brother...” Mikasa added breathlessly.

Jean stared at her, mouth slightly agape. “What about a brother? Huh?”

Before either Armin or Mikasa could answer, there was a knock on the door. Armin frowned and stood up, slowly walking to the front door. It was odd, seeing as how he didn’t know very many people who would make the effort to come visit him. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Hanji standing there, shivering and bouncing on her feet while pulling her coat tighter around her. It was already strange enough that she was in casual clothing.

“Dr. Zoe?” he gasped.

She grinned at him, although it wasn’t half as pleasant as it usually was. “Hey,” she greeted, still shivering. Armin wordlessly stood aside, allowing her in, still puzzled over the fact she was there in the first place.

“Sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she said apologetically as she turned to face him. “Work’s been an absolute hell lately, but I managed. I got Levi to give me the day off.”

He nodded mutely, following her as she led herself into the living room. There, she grinned again as she saw Mikasa, who just passively blinked at her. “Oh, hi Mikasa! I didn’t know you were here. And this is?” she trailed, looking pointedly at Jean who seemed to be in a state of mild shock.

“Jean Kirschtein,” he replied, standing up in order to shake her hand, which she did with a great degree of fervor. When he sat back down, he looked at his hand as if contemplating if it was possible to break fingers in a handshake.

Hanji sat down without invitation, stretching herself out on the couch and leaving just enough room for Armin to sit back down in a considerably more folded up position than before. She glanced between him and the other two before realization seemed to dawn over her. “Oh, right! Why I’m here! Well, I couldn’t very likely leave you in the dark about Eren. I mean, they’ve set a new privacy barrier on his case file, and it’s pretty much strictly need-to-know. But, since I have special clearance courtesy of the director, _and_ since I consider you as in a position of _needing to know_ , I took it upon myself to pay you a visit!”

“He’s alive, right?” Mikasa interjected anxiously.

Hanji nodded, but the smile on her face was carefully composed. “Yeah. They moved him to a private facility two days ago. Originally, they were planning on another person to take over the case and leave Director Levi out of it, but I’m guessing someone upstairs pulled a few strings, and eventually there was a ruling that said President Smith was the only person next to Zacklay who really had any jurisdiction.”

Generalissimo Dallis Zacklay was essentially the closest thing they had to a commander-in-chief, superior to everyone except the king. The military and the Research Association reported to him, among many others. Naturally, he would have the most jurisdiction, and in a normal case, something of this magnitude would have gone to trial with him as the ultimate judge. Unfortunately, the case seemed to slip by him, probably via some underhanded scheme. Still, it was a relief to hear that it might have been reported to him, and that Erwin would be able to answer to him at all.

“So is the execution cancelled?” Armin asked hopefully.

At this, Hanji’s smile fell. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but no. It’s still scheduled, even though Levi is pretty much bending himself backwards to change it, and Erwin is trying to find a loophole that can either cancel it completely or at least postpone it until we can do something.”

It wasn’t what Armin wanted to hear, and certainly not what Mikasa wanted to hear either.

“But,” Hanji added, holding up her index finger. “It shows that you have plenty of people on your side, Armin. Myself included. I’m assuming those two are on it, too.”

While Mikasa nodded resolutely, Jean seemed to fret over it. “Oh, I’m not--” he started, but was promptly cut off by the harshest stare Mikasa could manage. “I am,” he said, lowering his head sheepishly.

Armin managed to smile at them before he returned his attention to Hanji. “Is that all?” he asked.

She shook her head, some hair coming loose from her ponytail. “As it stands, the execution is scheduled to take place in three days. Like, they even boosted it to highest priority, which is why it’s so hard for Levi and Erwin to do anything about it.”

Mikasa shifted so that she was sitting on the edge of the chair. Her eyes were wide, her fingers at the fringe of her scarf. “Why would they do that?” she asked, a look of horror breaking through any attempt at calmness that she had.

“My theory is that the members of the government who looked over Eren’s case were terrified at the prospect of him even _existing_ ,” Hanji said, taking her glasses off as her expression darkened to one of absolute seriousness. It was such a sharp dissonance to her normal countenance that Armin was left a little breathless by it. “Their livelihoods are being threatened by it. Everything they’ve built up for themselves, capitalized on fear and the idea that we’re backed into a corner, can very well be disassembled to nothing if Eren is anything like what we think. Our need for a militant force, our need for research and development, the amount of money that people pay them in order to supposedly keep them safe, can all very likely disappear. If Eren can show us the root of the problem and provide us a solution, they’re capable of doing everything in their power, which is considerable, to put a stop to it.”

It was a brutal explanation, and the possible truth of it was the most painful aspect. It led Jean to visibly understand the gravity of the situation. “Is it possible that there’s more than one kind of Titan like him?” he asked with a slight grimace.

Instead of answering outright, Hanji gestured to Armin, nonverbally beseeching him to answer.

“I think so,” he said. “A scientist named Christa Renz gave me a copy of her own Titan’s file. Her Titan had been executed after it had been upgraded to an extreme danger level. After looking at the file and comparing notes, it’s incredibly likely that Eren isn’t the only one of his kind. I’m not sure how many there are in total, or if Eren is executed, how many more will be left.”

Jean sat in silence, absorbing the information with a perturbed expression. Hanji took it as a sign to continue.

“The best that Levi and I could do was to have you able to attend the execution. It’s really the only thing we could do at the moment, but we figured it could at the very least be a springboard for any better ideas.”

Armin felt himself grow pale at the idea, only remembering Christa sitting at Ymir’s execution, almost disconsolate. He didn’t want to be in her place, but even if he had to be, it was better than nothing. He could be at Eren’s side, from beginning to end. “How were you able to do that?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

Hanji put her glasses back on and settled into an uneasy smile. “Hey, don’t underestimate us when we put our minds to it! It wasn’t easy, but Erwin listed Levi as a person who was essential to the case, meaning he would _have_ to attend the execution. That opened up a few more possibilities, and Levi took the chance when he saw it. He decided to include you as a guest, which sounds morbid, but it’s actually pretty common in these situations. Of course, he didn’t tell anyone who his guest was, seeing as how it’s kind of considered bad manners to ask.”

Armin glanced over at Mikasa, who was still fidgeting with the scarf enough that he could see tiny red strands start to appear near her fingertips. “Can he include another person?” Armin asked.

“I guess he could,” Hanji replied with a shrug. “It’s not uncommon, but kind of discourteous, seeing as how it’s an execution no matter how you look at it. But I think he could swing it for your sake.”

He wasn’t sure _who_ it was really for. He wanted to think it was for Mikasa, so that even if things did go wrong, she could at least be there until the last moment, and know that her brother was at peace. But something told him that it wasn’t all there was. It wasn’t completely for him, either, regardless of the fact that he was becoming progressively more desperate to at least _see_ Eren one more time.

Evidently his thoughts were easier to read than he imagined, as he suddenly felt Hanji’s hand on his shoulder, jostling him gently. “Hey, you’ve got a lot of people on your side, right?” she assured. “Even Erwin thinks this is wrong, and if word gets out after all of this, they’re going to have a hell of a time keeping it quiet. You and Eren managed to shake things up around here more than you realize!”

There was a long moment of quiet that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Armin could feel Mikasa and Jean watching him, waiting for some kind of answer. The warmth of Hanji’s hand was as comforting as she intended. No, he wasn’t alone in this, and it was a far different sensation than it had been in the days before, when he had never felt more isolated.

“Right,” he finally said, sounding more sure of himself than he had been for days.

Surprisingly, it was Jean who spoke next. “He’s not gonna die alone,” he stated, and Armin looked up at him, a little amazed. There was a distant fire in Jean’s eyes, and Armin realized that it stemmed from that unsaid thing that just fringed on his lips. “Even if he sees you there, that’s better than thinking no one was there for him. He won’t feel abandoned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little side note to anyone who follows my writing blog, but there's hopefully going to be a side story for Jean on there either tomorrow or the day after! Get the tissues ready! ;w;


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this done! Thank you all again (and again, and again, and again) for being so patient! I tried to get this done before the week was out, and I almost got there. But now it's 1AM and I'm high-fiving myself for getting this done at all. uwu
> 
> So, aside from the epilogue, this is it! I'm so happy to have gotten this far, seeing as how before this, I was really horrible about writing and completing fics. Thank you to everyone who got this far! If I could hug you, bake you pastries, lavish you with all the affections in the world, etc. I would! Idk it's late and I'm full of emotions and you're all just too awesome and shebfjbvg /keysmashes into the night

Armin’s grandfather had once said that waiting was one of the most painful things in the world. Typically, that was in reference to waiting for Armin’s parents to return from one of their trips, or waiting for dinner to be done. All of those times, he was waiting for something good. This time, however, it felt like he was watching a line of clouds in the distance, threatening a storm, and all he could do was stand prone and brace himself.

Mikasa and Jean had returned to the barracks shortly after Hanji had visited. Both of them promised to take a designated leave of absence, and that they would return to Armin’s house that morning as early as they could. As they left, he could feel the tension drawing as tight as a bowstring. All of them felt it, reacting to it for various reasons. The possible outcome loomed over all of them and it made the pain of waiting even worse.

After a restless night’s sleep, he spent the second morning trying to hatch out some kind of plan. The biggest issue facing Armin after that, save for the obvious, was what to do. Hanji and Levi had pulled all the right strings while expecting Armin would have some kind of plan. He wasn’t being invited because they wanted him to watch. The problem was that his mind felt oddly blank, as though any semblance of an idea had been leached out. He couldn’t see all of the angles, let alone even know the location of where Eren was being kept. It wasn’t exactly a simple thing to smuggle a fifteen-meter tall Titan out of a laboratory and expect that no one would make a fuss about it.

Next came the legality of it all. No matter how he approached it, stopping Eren’s execution ended in prosecution or even more grave punishment for everyone involved. It made him wonder if it was worth it at all.

The only comforting thought was what Jean had said to him. Eren wouldn’t be alone, even if they couldn’t free him or prevent his death. Armin didn’t know what Eren felt at that moment, or if he was trying to figure out why Armin had left. He didn’t know if he felt lonely, or frightened, or even angry. Armin had developed a talent for reading all the changes in Eren’s emotions, even with his limited expressive power. Perhaps that was what added that extra dose of pain that he didn’t need, that he suddenly felt so disconnected and even a little guilty that he hadn’t taken more initiative right away for someone he cared so much for. He didn’t know if it was just shock that had failed to set in quickly, or if he was just left so bewildered by the whole thing.

It wasn’t time to dwell, though. Eren needed him, he and Mikasa needed Eren, and it was no use to curse himself for what he _hadn’t_ done.

As Armin sat in his living room, storybook sitting innocently in front of him, he took in a deep breath, straightening his back and focusing. Having a background in research didn’t make him instinctively meditative. His work often forced him to think on his feet, to rationalize in moments of panic. But at the moment, he was allowed silence; a perfect, unaltered calm that he could think through.

He thought of who would be in attendance at the execution. It was private, so attendance would be limited down to the most essential people. The prosecutors, first and foremost, although Armin didn’t know who they were. Erwin would be there, as would Levi, and as promised, Hanji. Mikasa would be attending alongside Armin as a guest, and he assumed Jean wouldn’t be far behind. The prosecutors would probably have their own guests as well, though their attendance would also be limited to keep up good form. In short, the state of attendance was already in Armin’s favor.

The most mysterious thing aside from the identity of the prosecutors was the identity of the executioner. In most executions, they were a member of the military, trained and perhaps having several kills already under their belt. He wondered if Eren’s execution fell into the same line, or if the prosecution had someone else in mind to go about it. If it was a typical case, he had the benefit of having two members of the military nearby, as well as two ex-military personnel present. The four of them undoubtedly had thorough knowledge of the procedure, having seen their fair share of executions. It led Armin to wonder if they could, by these means, pause the execution on the grounds of improper handling or something similar. Armin didn’t know the finer details of how it all worked, but he didn’t have any doubt that Levi, Erwin, Mikasa, and Jean would be helpful.

He suddenly remembered, almost accidentally, when Levi had spoken to him after Armin had requested his research grant and Hanji had made her visit to Eren. Levi was still the director, and as long as Eren was still in Erwin’s jurisdiction, Levi’s position remained static. Essentially, Levi still had that degree of responsibility so that he could be the executioner. It was a realization that turned the dread that Armin originally had into a kind of relief. Even if the prosecution had someone at the ready, Armin could still cite Levi as the responsible party. No one (save Erwin, who probably wouldn’t argue, and Zacklay, who wouldn’t be there) could say a word otherwise.

The good fortune was that if Levi did participate in the execution, one of two things could happen. Either a plan could be carried out and Eren wouldn’t die, or if something went wrong and Eren did have to die, Levi would make it as quick and painless as possible. All Armin had to do was bring it up, which while an extremely basic idea, it was still some kind of plan, which was far better than what he started out with.

\---

Once again, Armin had extremely difficult time sleeping. His mind was plagued with thoughts about the coming day, and no matter what he tried to do, he couldn’t escape it. His mind seemed to be caught on a loop of remembering the two executions he had witnessed, flanked by more memories of botched experiments in school. He didn’t know how they would go about executing a Titan as large as Eren, or if they would have to change the procedure. Then, he tried to fight back his traitorous imagination from filling in the blanks. In short, it left him somehow _more_ exhausted, but even less able to fall asleep at all.

He tried clearing his mind, picturing an empty room or some scenic location, or drawing a mental image of the ocean, even though he could only guess. Right when he thought he had something, it would dissipate back into an anxious maelstrom that was even more aggravating when he looked at the clock by his bed and saw that it was nearly a half hour past one in the morning.

Then, he changed his method just slightly. Armin took in a deep breath, his eyes fixed on a point on his ceiling, and tried picturing Eren. Not Eren in wait of his own death, or how Eren might look now with the question of if Armin abandoned him, but Eren when they first met. He recalled deep-teal eyes, far too thoughtful for a Titan, too interested and intrigued by the fifteenth researcher than anyone else. He drew from that deep well of emotion that he had made a point to keep; the one he felt when Eren responded to his words, wrote his name in steamed-up glass, held Armin close to his chest so that the scientist could hear his heart beating in a steady rhythm. Armin remembered the sound, the barest flutter he could feel in his own skin with every solid beat, reminding him that Eren was alive and fantastic and more than Armin could even dream about.

It was comforting, and just as he was beginning to finally doze off, the sound like a distant echo in his ears, he was surprised at the feeling of tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

He hummed in confusion, reaching up and touching his face as one tear fell, forming a hot rivulet down his face. It was strange, since he felt more content than sad. Thinking along those lines allowed him to remember just how _alive_ Eren really was, and how even at that moment, when things seemed impossibly dire, his heart was still beating.

_It’s because you love him_ , a soft voice in the back of his mind reminded. _You love him and that’s why you’re going to go this far. It’s why you have to do this in the first place_.

He hated how right that was, but not because he didn’t want to love Eren. He did, and he was going to continue to love him even long after Eren was gone. He simply hated that this fact had been clouded over in his shock and confusion, leaving him stumbling around and grasping at answers that were so fleeting and phantasmic that he could hardly grip them at all. There had been a drive to change what had happened, but now it felt so much more intense, backed with this new flood of desperation and yearning that Armin faintly remembered from when he felt that Eren returned some portion of his feelings. That moment had ended so fast, had been eclipsed by something far more horrible than Armin had allowed himself to believe. It really was any wonder why he had forgotten.

For a long moment, he stayed quiet, sniffling and ducking his head under his blankets like a petulant child afraid of something hidden in the dark. He fought back sobs that were already tightening his throat like a chokehold, adding more unwanted heat to his eyes, leaving him as a complete wreckage of himself. Biting them back proved more painful than he thought, and so he let them go.

Not even when his grandfather told him his parents weren’t coming back, or when he lost his grandfather a few years later had he ever cried so hard. Both of those times, he had been assured that it was all the natural order of things and that sometimes it was just someone’s time to go. But it _wasn’t_ Eren’s time, and both of the times in the past, there was nothing Armin could do. Now he could, but doubt served as a near-impenetrable mist between him and what ever hope he could grasp onto.

So he cried. He cried for what seemed like hours, sniffing and swallowing until his stomach churned with nausea. Even when he settled down, having cried himself into some kind of dazed stupor that eventually led to him sleeping, tears still fell. He didn’t bother to wipe them away before he had finally cried himself to sleep.

When he slept, though, he finally dreamed. For once, it wasn’t a nightmare. He dreamt of a wide open field, illuminated into brilliant shades of emerald and gold in the afternoon sun. The grass waved gently in a warm breeze, and he hadn’t felt so at peace in what seemed like eons. The sun was pleasantly warm on his face, and he closed his eyes, seeing alternating shades of deep red and orange in his eyelids.

Then he felt as if someone was watching him. It wasn’t frightening or even foreboding, but more like a familiar, comfortable presence. He opened his eyes to see someone standing in front of him, rendered to a silhouette against the sun. The person didn’t speak, and Armin felt that they didn’t need to. There was something between them, unspoken but understood by both of them, so that Armin didn’t feel the need to ask any questions. He simply squinted against the light, feeling a smile grow on his face. The person seemed to smile back, and for just a moment, Armin could see their eyes. Even in the shade, they were a stunning blue-green, glowing as if they were lit by the sun as well.

\---

It was still dark out when Mikasa and Jean came to Armin’s house. He had been awake for roughly a half hour, fighting back exhaustion but still feeling more rested than he had felt in a long time. He was still trying to remember his dream, only recalling that it had been good, what ever it had been about, which was far better than his current track record. When he heard a knock at the door, he shook the remnants of the dream off, figuring he wasn’t going to remember anyway.

Mikasa and Jean were dressed casually, but still had expressions of militant seriousness. Armin let them in with a quiet greeting. Naturally, Jean was the first person to attempt to break the tension, even though he seemed nervous as well. “We’ve got rain headed our way today. Kind of cryptic, huh?” he said, trying to seem a little more easy-going. Armin could at least appreciate the effort, and rewarded it with a small smile.

However, Mikasa was far more focused on the issue. “You have a plan, right?” she asked, fixing Armin with the most intense glare in her arsenal.

He nodded, trying not to shrink away from her. He knew she meant well, and that any anger or frustration she was feeling wasn’t directed at him.

She continued to stare at him, obviously waiting for an answer. However, he shook his head, trying not to look too sheepish. “I can’t really say,” he said carefully, watching her slowly begin to change the target of her irritation. Immediately, he put his hands up in surrender. “And it’s hard to even say to myself, seeing as how I’m not even sure if it’s going to work at all. I don’t know how this is going to go, or even if it’s typical procedure.”

Mikasa backed down slightly, but didn’t move her gaze from him.

“All I ask is that the two of you stay nearby,” he continued. “Director Levi and President Smith are both going to be there, so I don’t know how much military interference we’ll need. It’s just a precaution.”

“No problem,” Jean replied, nodding. Mikasa turned to look at him, and he simply shrugged. “I get where Armin’s coming from.”

She stayed silent, but Armin could see that she was conceding. Really, she didn’t have much of a choice unless she came up with a plan of her own. However, any plan that Armin could imagine her having certainly had some violence involved.

The address Hanji had given them for the facility was on the other side of town, nearly on the outskirts. Even as Armin led the way, he could still feel Mikasa’s stare boring into his back, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He could only imagine how she felt, very possibly having a sibling that was close to being executed. He understood how she must have felt about his vocal lack of a plan, just as Jean understood why Armin had chosen to keep quiet. It made him want to say something, but he opted not to, instead pretending to take interests in street signs rather than show how guilty he felt. Fortunately, Mikasa didn’t say anything more, and after awhile, seemed to turn her attention elsewhere, or just keep her thoughts to herself.

Dawn was just fringing on the horizon, lighting it a pale, ashy gray. Jean was right about the rain, as what ever sliver of sunlight or clear sky they might have been able to see was quickly blotted out by rolling clouds. It made him grateful when they finally ducked into a tram, just as specks of rain began hitting the windows.

Armin didn’t rely on public transportation very often, as he usually enjoyed walking to work. In this case, however, it was necessary. The facility was too far for walking, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was being followed or not. It could have just been paranoia setting in, which he didn’t put past himself given the stressful nature of the day. Regardless, public transportation didn’t seem so suspicious, and their last stop was in approximate relation to the facility. He also didn’t want to risk being late.

After several stops, their stop was announced and Armin affirmed it with a short, barely-perceptible nod. By the time they walked into the station, the rain was already beginning to pour, drumming out a steady rhythm on the roof. Armin took a moment to look over the address again, take a quick look at a map posted nearby, and nodded again.

“It shouldn’t be more than a ten minute walk from here. Hanji said to go to the back door, and if we could, to go separately so no one suspects us,” he explained.

“Makin’ this sound like a secret mission,” Jean muttered, but shrugged and followed Armin.

The district that the facility was in was notably newer as far as architecture. The buildings had a kind of drab uniformity, save for a few architectural flourishes here and there that might distinct them from their neighbors. Armin knew that part of it was for an economical reason, but he also recognized the telltale signs of it being a district better catered to a scientific crowd. Houses bore the same style as laboratories, and there were a number of signs pointing to record departments and libraries. He had heard about new buildings being added to their system, but he hadn’t paid much attention. At least now it made sense.

As expected, the facility was a short walk away, and was just as unassuming as the rest of the buildings around it. The only difference was its size. It was far larger, but in a way that the building seemed elongated rather than tall. It made him think that Eren would probably have to either sit or curl up to be properly moved there, as it certainly wasn’t tall enough for him to stand. He could easily be a few meters taller than the roof.

Mikasa seemed to decide to go to the back door first. Although the facility was surrounded by a tall fence topped by rings of barbed wire, they could see that a gate near the rear of the building was open, and Armin could only guess that it had been Hanji’s doing. She calmly walked towards it, disappearing around the corner for a moment before reappearing to nod to them, affirming that it was clear.

“Is this going to be like a heist or something?” Jean jokingly asked, walking beside Armin while wiping a few stray raindrops from his face.

He knew Jean meant it to be humorous, but Armin dismissed it with a shrug. “Who knows? It could be,” he answered, and he almost couldn’t resist a slight grin when he saw Jean blanch beside him.

They turned the corner to see Mikasa standing by the door, unsurprisingly accompanied by Hanji. She greeted them with a wave and an oddly cheerful smile. “You’re just in time. Perfectly early, in fact!” she said, opening the door for them.

There was something strange in her expression, and Armin puzzled it out as he walked by her. Yes, she seemed happy, which was dissonant with the situation, but it didn’t take him long to realize that she was keeping her hopes up, although her faith in it had its limits. Regardless, she believed in them, far more than he felt like he believed in himself. This was all necessary, he internally reminded. As long as Eren needed their help, Armin needed to have more faith in himself.

They were led into a dimly-lit storage area, which was a far different location than what Armin had imagined. It was stuffy and cramped, shelves full of items that were already collecting dust or seemed to outlive their use. He noted with a twinge in his stomach an enormous coiling of steel cable in a corner, and quickly turned his gaze away from it.

“All the legal stuff is going on now, like all the paperwork they couldn’t sign before. It’s probably gonna be an hour before I’ll be able to take you in,” Hanji explained.

“An _hour_ ,” Mikasa repeated, tone dangerous.

If Hanji felt the verbal threat on her life, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Here’s the thing,” she began, hands already moving in explanation. “These prosecutors are _crazy_. Like, I’ve seen my fair share, but these guys are beyond belief! If I bring you in now, while they have this delay to work with, they’ll seriously do everything they can to get you out as quickly as possible. They know their legal jargon, so I’m sure they can concoct some half-assed excuse as to why you three shouldn’t be here. We have Erwin, Pixis, _and_ Dawk, but I don’t think the three of them combined can stand up to that group for an hour. You get it?”

It was good thinking on Hanji’s part, so Armin nodded and Jean followed suit. Mikasa didn’t move, but Armin could tell that she wasn’t ready to burst through the door without warning anymore.

“The best thing we can do is wait. All I have to say is that I’m bringing in the remaining witnesses, and they can’t start until you’re in. At least then, they don’t have a chance to try to get you out! Pretty smart, huh?” she said, hands waving ecstatically.

Mikasa sighed through her nose and turned away, crossing her arms over her chest. Jean and Armin simply exchanged glances before nodding again.

“Good,” Hanji concluded, grinning at them again. “See you in an hour!” she cheered, disappearing behind the door leading into the next room.

It left them in the thick silence of the storage room, half-choked with dust with a seething Mikasa standing off to the side.

“You know,” Jean said quietly, allowing a quick look at the door Hanji had left through. “She seems _way_ too happy about this.”

\---

Armin was reminded again about how painful waiting was. There was nothing to count the minutes by, so it seemed like an eternity before Jean announced that he was pretty sure it had been nearly an hour. In that time, Mikasa had taken a seat on an empty wooden crate by the door, Jean had decided to lean against a shelf that seemed sturdy enough, and Armin had kept himself occupied by winding through the shelves and glancing over anything that looked remotely interesting.

It was hard to find a distraction, as his eyes kept wandering to the door and wondering what was beyond it. His mind conjured hundreds of images, but kept going back to the memory of Ymir’s execution. He tried to shake it away, but unlike the night before, there was nothing stopping the onslaught of traitorous thoughts that now occupied him.

When the door finally opened, he felt a cold mixture of both relief and dread flow through him. Hanji entered, shutting the door behind her as the three of them made their way back over to her.

“Alright, quick rundown of what’s going to happen,” she said, her voice taking on a serious tone. “I’ll bring you in and announce that you’re witnesses. Of course, the prosecution is going to have a fit, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing they can do about it now. Then they’ll announce the prosecutors, the responsible party, which is Levi and Erwin, and the charges. They’ll tell the executioner to proceed at their leisure and that whole shebang, and that’s it. So what ever you’re planning on doing, hopefully you can do it in that amount of time. Luckily, the prosecutors might buy you some time by freaking out.” She ended that with a wink, and Armin interpreted it as a show of confidence.

Before she turned to open the door, he cleared his throat, effectively getting her attention. “Uh, who is the executioner?” he asked, and Hanji blinked owlishly at him.

“Oh, I have no idea, actually,” she answered with a shrug. “I’ve never seen her before. It’s always a surprise at these things. A bad one, but you get the idea.”

“Is it possible to ask for a change in executioners?”

Again, she blinked at him, bewildered for a moment before she clearly began to follow where he was going. “If you’ve got a good reason, then yeah, I don’t see why not.”

Armin nodded, and although there were more questions buzzing around in his head, he chose not to ask. It wasn’t much use delaying this any further.

Without another word, Hanji opened the door, this time taking the initiative to lead the group in herself.

The execution chamber was predictably large, as it would have to be to take on Titans of Eren’s size. It was cast in the same slate gray-and-black combination of tile like the chamber Ymir had been in, complete with drains in arrays across the floor. The seating was in an amphitheater-like arrangement, forming a semicircle around the room and rising in tiers. Only a metal barrier and a set of steps separated the seats from the chamber itself.

Armin didn’t have much time to observe the chamber, as his eyes immediately went to Eren. He could hear a quiet gasp behind him from Mikasa, and a low, strangled sound from Jean. It was obvious that the sight was just as horrifying to them as it was to him. Eren was lying prone on the ground, effectively bolted to the tile by a complex network of thick metal cables, even larger than the ones that Armin had seen in the storage room. There were so many of them and they were so tightly wound that some of them had begun cutting into Eren’s skin, leaving bruise-colored welts and deep red markings in their wake. He was forced to lie on his stomach, arms tightly bound beside him, and even his head was tied down so that the back of his neck was in full view, long hair pushed aside for easier access.

It was clear that he had been heavily sedated, as his eyes were half-lidded, breathing coming and going in a slow, labored rhythm. He didn’t even react to the sound of the door closing, or any of the movement in the seats. It was if he was asleep, although the irritated twitching of his muscles along his arms denoted that he was still capable of response.

The sight alone made Armin want to vomit, sickened by the sheer fact that Eren had been mistreated so badly. He was certain that some of the markings that had formed on his skin hadn’t been from that morning.

“They gave him six times the dose of the sedation drug as they would give an average Titan,” Hanji mentioned quietly, all of the cheerfulness gone from her voice. Clearly it had disturbed her as well.

It was almost enough to distract him from the sudden uproar that had begun in the seats. Armin looked up to see a small group of people dressed impeccably well, most of them on their feet and glaring towards him.

“What’s the meaning of this?” one of them snarled. He was a tall, thin man with wide eyes that seemed perpetually terrified, and a thin, drawn face with hollowed cheeks. He was pointing an accusing finger at Armin, his hand visibly trembling.

“At ease, Heilman,” an older man replied, and Armin looked over to see a bald man sitting beside Erwin, Levi sitting on the tier just below them. Armin recognized the bald man as Dot Pixis, who served as Erwin’s military counterpart. He was famously, or perhaps infamously easygoing despite his demanding position. Even now, Armin could see the barest metallic shine of silver at his belt from where a flask was partially hidden. Beside him was an exhausted-looking Nile Dawk, who was the last counterpart, serving the government directly.

Levi glanced boredly between the trio and the prosecutors, sighing irritably. “They’re guest witnesses,” he answered. “I invited them myself.”

A smaller, more stout man beside the thin, tall one stood up. He was balding, but most of the missing hair was hidden under a thin skullcap. Armin recognized his lavish robes as belonging to a religious cult that had formed over the past few years, that were notoriously overzealous to the point of being considered dangerous. He looked positively enraged, if not a little scandalized.

“This is _sabotage_!” he shouted, and a few people around him loudly agreed. “It’s a blatant disregard for the rules and I won’t _stand_ for it! That boy is a--”

“A civilian,” Erwin suddenly interjected. “Armin Arlert is effectively a civilian, and thus has every right to be here if invited. Besides, all of our legal proceedings are done, aren’t they?”

Beside him, Pixis hummed in agreement.

The prosecution was far from settling down, effectively growing louder as they tried to talk over each other, enough so that Armin couldn’t actually understand a word they were saying.

They were all silenced at a loud groan that suddenly echoed through the room. It was far too familiar to Armin, who whirled around to see Eren’s eyes slowly opening. His gaze seemed misty, eyes slowly moving to take in the crowd. When he finally saw Armin, the Titan visibly jerked, the cables groaning against the sudden strain. The longer he focused on Armin, his pupils dilating, the harder he pulled against his binds. However, Eren was in too weak of a state to pull hard enough to free himself, and so settled back on the floor with a low, tired moan.

Mikasa was suddenly beside Armin, her eyes fixated on Eren and her hands immediately going to the fringe of her scarf. Armin could practically hear her thoughts, as they weren’t so different from his own. The most he could do at the moment was put a hand on her shoulder in a small attempt to comfort her.

“Dawk!” the man that Pixis had identified as Heilman suddenly shouted. “Control that monster! He’ll kill us all if he gets loose!”

Nile stood up, albeit with a look of unadulterated irritation. “Brzenska!” he called.

From behind Eren emerged a small silver-haired girl in glasses dressed in a standard military uniform. The blades in her hands identified her as the designated executioner. She had a serious expression, not unlike Mikasa’s, and Armin could see why they had chosen her.

“Sir,” she responded, her voice surprisingly low.

“Subdue TF-1505 if necessary,” Nile responded, sitting back down.

She nodded, walking over to Eren’s head and standing with her blades pointed downwards; a waiting position. Eren seemed to get the idea and held still, his eyes slowly going from her back to Armin.

There was something imploring in Eren’s stare. He couldn’t vocalize it, and the sedation had made his usual change in facial expression to be impossible. Yet it was enough to get the message across. If Armin was going to act, he had to act immediately.

“President Smith,” he called. Erwin looked at him, the expectation obvious. Thankfully, the prosecutors stayed quiet, although all of them collectively seemed to think it was against their better judgement. “Even though I’m a civilian, like you said, I’d just like to remind you and everyone else that it was originally Director Levi’s responsibility to execute TF-1505 if it needed to be done. Is this still in effect?”

Armin wasn’t the praying type, especially in the presence of a maddeningly religious person. However, he allowed an exception to silently offer a prayer up to what ever deity there might have been that he was making the right decision.

“It was,” Erwin replied, and someone in the prosecution was already beginning to protest. Erwin held up a hand to promptly silence them. “In fact, I believe under current circumstances, it is still his responsibility.” At best, Erwin understood what Armin was attempting to do, and even though Levi was sitting still, his expression having not changed, he seemed to understand as well.

Armin took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth before he continued, knowing that the next moment was pivotal. “May I suggest a change in executioners?”

The uproar started again, most of the complaints now focusing on civilian interference. Hanji was right in that these people could navigate legal jargon, and Armin began hoping that she was also right about them being unable to change anything legally now.

This time, however, they weren’t silenced by the three authorities in the room, or Eren. It was the silver-haired girl standing beside him, who cleared her throat loudly before she held up her right hand, still grasping her blade. “Permission to speak, sir,” she said, looking at Nile. He nodded for her to continue. Armin felt that unwelcome, but familiar feeling of dread beginning to crawl through him.

“Sir, if I may say, I’m not as qualified as Director Levi to perform this task. Personally, I would trust him with completing it effectively,” she replied, sounding sure of herself. “I would be completely willing to hand over the responsibility to him.”

The prosecutors seemed as stunned as Armin was, and it wasn’t until Erwin spoke that Armin realized that no one had made a sound at all.

“Understood. Director, this is completely up to you,” he said, looking to Levi.

In typical fashion, Levi simply shrugged. It was as close to an affirmative as Erwin was going to get.

Hanji finally led Armin, Mikasa, and Jean to a row of seats as Levi stood up and began to walk down the stairs to the chamber. As Levi passed them, he paused, still looking straight ahead. It took a moment for Armin to realize that he was waiting for Armin to say something.

Any thought of a solid plan seemed to evaporate as he looked down at Eren. “Mess up,” he finally whispered, unable to say anything more.

He thought at the very least, Levi would glare at him, chastise him for being stupid, or even ignore him completely. Instead, Levi gave one curt nod before he made his way down to the floor.

The silver-haired girl handed her blades over to Levi, inclining her head respectfully before she exited a door somewhere near the back of the chamber. As Levi took them in his hands, adjusting them and getting used to their weight, Nile stood up again. This time, he held a piece of paper in his hands.

“Subject TF-1505, being executed on the grounds of posing an extreme and real threat to humanity,” he read. “TF-1505 will be executed and its body promptly disposed of shortly after the procedure. Attending executioner may proceed at his leisure.”

Levi stood before Eren, firmly gripping the blades. Eren looked up at him, eyes focusing enough to know who it was standing before him. Then, he moved his gaze back to Armin.

Armin expected fear, or perhaps sorrow or anger or anything else rather than what he saw on Eren’s face. Instead of what he had expected, Eren appeared strangely at peace. It wasn’t even the effect of sedation, but rather a genuine look, or even a feeling that Armin shared with him for one painfully short moment. Levi shifted his weight slightly, blades at the ready, but then appeared to say something to Eren. What ever he said, Eren let out an audible sigh and closed his eyes.

Levi brought the blades down.

\---

Once, perhaps not so long ago, a man was traveling to nowhere in particular. Along his path, he met many people, all who were in search of something. They were writers, artists, philosophers, people who just had questions and not a lot of answers. They were the kind of people the man enjoyed being around, and he often stayed in their company before they moved on and he took another way to get to his unknown destination.

One night, he sat with a group of them in the woods, around a small campfire. They had been exchanging stories, philosophies that they had come up with in the time that they had been traveling. Someone asked him what he thought. The man smiled, in that moment appearing not young, but not entirely old either. All of his age was in his eyes, just barely hidden behind a pair of glasses. It was as if he held the wisdom of a century.

“I’ve figured something out about Titans,” he said. “Why we’re so afraid of them, and why they’re such a threat to us.”

“Because they eat people,” someone interrupted with a laugh. Everyone laughed as well, including the man in the glasses.

“That may be so, but there’s something else,” he continued. No one interrupted him again. “You see, they’re too much like us. We have too many things we can compare. You see, we’re monsters sometimes. We wage war and pick fights and abandon and destroy, all without much thought. It really is amazing how much we rely on instinct when we’re in a panic. How are they so different?”

The group was silent, all watching the reflection of the fire dance on his lenses. He smiled balefully down at it.

“We’re terrible at heart. We’re not all born bad, but we are completely capable of becoming bad, and often, we see many of our own kind embracing this. But...” His voice trailed off, dissipating into the perfectly still darkness. The fire cracked, sending a plume of embers into the air. “Even though we’re monsters as well, that’s also to say that not all Titans are bad. If we’re capable of their acts and deeds, who is to say that they’re not capable of the best of our traits?”

Another crackle. The wind changed direction, blowing the smoke with it. His eyes watered.

“Who is to say that they’re not able to be kind, or strong, or even empathetic? Why are we always the heroes?”

\---

The entire chamber was full of steam. With it came the familiar odor of rotting flesh, sickly sweet as well as nauseating. Armin squinted against it, and could just barely register Mikasa’s fingers digging into his arm. Jean coughed into the crook of his arm, cursing after he was able to take in a full breath.

It was over. The steam and the smell were two perfectly good indicators, and Armin could feel a strange hollow sensation form in the depth of his chest. He hadn’t done enough, had put his trust with the wrong people or not enough people, hadn’t come up with a better plan, should have risked his life like he had planned and expected. But it was over now, and there was no way to rewind it and change it. Levi had simply done as instructed, and Armin couldn’t have expected any more or less of him. Messing up wasn’t in his repertoire, so Armin had no place feeling any animosity. In fact, he hardly felt anything at all.

“Execution of subject TF-1505 complete,” Nile’s voice echoed from somewhere in the room. It was the last nail in the coffin, and Armin wasn’t sure what to do beyond that.

Mikasa was now gripping him hard enough to leave bruises on his arm, and he could hear Jean murmur an apology on his behalf. Armin just gazed out into the steam, feeling as though he could get lost in it, feeling that same sensation as when he had dreamed of leaping into the void. In that moment, he sorely wished he could. After all, there was nothing left now.

He felt Hanji suddenly shift beside him, practically jumping to her feet. “Wait!” she called out. Armin looked up to see her pointing into the steam, which was now beginning to disappear. He followed her gesture and saw the faint shape of Levi crouching down on the ground. Then, as the steam thinned out more, he saw that there was not one but _two_ figures. Levi, and someone curled up on the ground, unmoving. The only other shapes were the quickly-rotting ribs that surrounded them.

Levi stood up, and Armin could see him turn to face the seats. “With all due respect,” he called, his voice unwavering. “Although I’m reasonably skilled, I can tell you that I’m not qualified to execute humans.”

Armin felt as if the entire world had frozen for a moment, stilling on the image of Levi standing beside a human. An unconscious, curled up human where Eren had been.

Then Levi took off his labcoat, draping it over the person on the ground. This time, he didn’t turn to face anyone, instead staring downwards and speaking. “And I’d like to request the use of a hospital or infirmary. This boy isn’t moving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaa! There were actually two endings that I was considering, but then I figured you guys deserved a (remotely?) happy ending! Actually, the original end of this chapter is now the start of the epilogue, so I guess that gives you something to look forward to (and less incentive to pelt me with heavy objects for leaving you with a cliffhanger, I hope!).
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who had read this fic and kept up with it. It's kind of a mixed thing to have it end, but I'm just really psyched that you're all here and awesome and hwaaaah so fantastic. 8w8 /holds every single one of you close yesss


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand it's done! Not going to lie, I literally started crying when I realized I was writing the last sentence of the fic. This has been such a cool experience for me in general. I've met a ton of really awesome people, got a better insight into my own writing skill and style, managed to hit a NaNoWriMo-level wordcount for the first time in my life aside from actual NaNoWriMo (and this fic was longer than my novel), and finished a multi-chapter fic for the first time in years. This fic is really close to my heart now, and so are all of you. ;w; Emotional ramblings ahoy~!
> 
> This is by no means the end of it either. I do have plans to do a series, with prequels, midquels, sequels (some with NSFW things that I know a few people were asking about, winkwink), and the whole shebang. Of course, there's other things I'm planning on writing as well (and NaNoWriMo next week, sob). I've left a lot of ends open just for that reason! There's a ton of possibilities with this thing, and I'd really like to use all of them!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, because I've had one hell of a good time writing it. :D

The shock that followed what Levi had said made it far easier than Armin had thought to get things moving. He was even sure that Levi had said it that way on purpose, to take advantage of the situation and make it even more stunning than it already was. There was immediate movement, with Pixis and Dawk making their way to the prosecution, Pixis pausing just for a moment to say something to Erwin. Erwin, on the other hand, made his way down to Levi, stopping once by Hanji.

“Take these three over to the hospital. Don’t stop for anything,” he said, allowing no room for argument. It was smart, considering Armin wanted nothing more than to run down to Levi, and Mikasa seemed to want the same thing.

But Hanji was faster than them, and quickly herded them back through storage. She seemed bizarrely cheerful, practically hopping behind them. “Come on! Let’s just do what Erwin said, right?” she cheered.

As they exited back into the alley behind the facility, Mikasa finally stopped, turning around abruptly to glare at Hanji. “I need to go back there. I _need_ to go with them,” she said, her voice dangerously low.

Hanji appeared to have expected the response, and looked as though she was going to put her hand on Mikasa’s shoulder as a gesture of comfort, but wisely thought better of it. “Levi and Erwin are going to take him,” she replied, her tone more serious. “Believe me when I say that if all of us go together, it’s going to make it more difficult.”

Armin understood Hanji, but he was also very close to giving in to his instincts and running back into the facility, Mikasa in tow. Yet he knew how hard this was going to be, considering the prosecution was probably pitching the grandest fit in history over what had just happened. Armin still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. At least he wasn’t as stunned as Jean, who was still wide-eyed as though his brain was caught on one thing. The most he had said since they had left was, “What the hell?” and nothing else.

Thankfully, Mikasa didn’t argue again, which Hanji seemed grateful for as well. Mikasa certainly had the ability to march her way back in. Instead, she stared at the ground and followed Hanji with begrudging obedience.

The closest hospital was around twenty minutes away on foot. Hanji anticipated that was where Levi and Erwin were heading, mentioning how the hospital worked in close conjunction with the surrounding scientific community.

“Any time we have an on-site accident,” she explained. “There’s three main hospitals we use for treatment. Luckily, this is one of them. Of course, I’m sure they’ve never dealt with anything like this before, but I trust them.”

They decided to walk to the hospital, which would give Erwin and Levi time to sort a few things out. It was definitely an emergency, and that would expedite things considerably. Regardless, the time it took to get there was another painful waiting game for Armin, who found himself deep in thought with every minute that passed.

He was still stunned, perhaps moreso than when Erwin had told him that Eren had been elevated to the level of extremely dangerous. His heart rammed against his ribs, his breath felt painfully short, and his mind was reeling at a rate that made him dizzy. No one was sure what had happened. Not him, not Erwin, not Levi, and not Hanji. Of course, he had an idea, as he was sure everyone else did, but the prior impossibility of it made it even more strange, making it an untouchable thought that seemed more dreamlike than a reality.

The boy on the floor could have been Eren, probably _was_ Eren, and yet Armin still couldn’t bring himself to accept this. His vision was still filled with steam and the skeletal remains of the Titan that he had come to care for more than most humans he had met and known. He couldn’t reduce that Titan to human size, or think of him as anything but the fifteen-meter creature he was, with his permanent grimace and eyes so ridiculously stunning that his gaze often left Armin breathless.

Even after his theories, the circumstantial evidence that made it even more possible, there was some kind of mental roadblock that kept him from drawing the parallel between the boy on the floor and the Titan.

\---

The remainder of the walk to the hospital progressed in relative silence, presumably with everyone caught up in their own thoughts. By the time they reached the hospital, Jean looked a little less shocked (but had to sit down on a bench as soon as he saw one), Mikasa seemed a bit calmer, and Hanji still seemed oddly pleased, but far more subdued than when they had left. Armin wondered if he was supposed to feel any better, or any more in control of the situation. When he gave himself a quick mental inventory, he found that nothing had changed.

They walked in, with Hanji pausing to look back at Jean quizzically. The latter held up a hand and shook his head. “I’ll, uh...” He blinked, swallowing heavily. “Just give me a minute.”

“No problem,” she quipped back.

They walked towards reception, with Armin taking a moment to glance over the hospital’s interior. It was obvious that the hospital shared roots with its scientific cousins. The architecture had the same soaring, open look of many of the facilities Armin had seen. The lobby itself was domed in thick glass, supported by shining steel girders that gave the dome a latticed appearance. An attempt at making an outdoor-looking garden had been done up against one wall, with a network of small waterfalls cascading through a patio-sized grouping of large plants, some resembling smaller versions of outdoor trees. It was obviously made in an attempt to seem more calming, and Armin could appreciate it for a moment.

He turned to see Hanji quietly take aside one of the receptionists, speaking to him in hushed tones and making minute gestures. The receptionist nodded, responding to her while pointing vaguely in the direction of the rest of the hospital. When he concluded, she thanked him before gesturing for Mikasa and Armin to follow her.

They walked to an elevator, Hanji pressing the button for the fifth floor. The ride up was silent, but tense, given Mikasa’s guarded posture. Armin could still see that she was nervous, judging by the way she worried the threads of her scarf.

“Don’t worry,” Hanji finally said, breaking the silence. “He’s already being given special treatment.”

That did sate Armin’s nerves a little. It meant that Eren (he still had a difficulty admitting it was the same person) was alive.

The elevator doors opened and Hanji led the way, giving a quick nod to the nurses sitting at their station, who nodded back in recognition. They walked down another hallway, and it was soon obvious which room Eren was being kept in. Erwin and Levi were standing outside with the silver-haired girl that was present at the execution. All three of them turned when they saw Hanji, with Erwin going into an easy smile, Levi looking away almost immediately, and the silver-haired girl inclining her head respectfully.

“Dr. Zoe,” she greeted.

“Rico,” Hanji replied happily, waving.

Armin looked between them in confusion. “I thought you said you didn’t know her,” he stated, watching as Hanji sank into a sheepish grin.

“Kinda had to lie about that. Sorry.”

“Director Levi recruited me for this,” Rico explained. “I owed him a favor, but it was also an honor to be a part of this.”

The sense of confusion only heightened. “This was part of a _plan_?” he asked, specifically looking at Levi.

Levi returned his stare, although his expression naturally didn’t change. “You didn’t think I was going to trust you with this completely, did you?” he asked, although it was definitely rhetoric. “We came up with most of the plan, but had to rely on you asking for a change in executioners. Fortunately, I trusted your memory enough.”

Armin didn’t have it in him to be insulted. Instead, he gaped at them. “Then how did you...?”

“You said to mess up, so I did,” Levi replied with a shrug. “A typical executioner blow is much deeper than what I did. Not to mention, I didn’t cut in vertically. Crude, and much messier than what I would have liked, but effective.”

Armin could picture it, having a good idea of how it typically went. A vertical slash with a shallow depth would have essentially sheared the flesh off Eren’s neck. Depending on how exact Levi was, and Armin assumed in this case he certainly was, the hit could have killed the Titan’s body, but would have allowed the human part to remain intact. It made sense for Eren’s human body to be there, Armin reasoned. A Titan’s weak spot was its neck, and if his theory about certain other Titans was true, then the same circumstance applied to them. If Ymir had a human body, then the executioner’s blow at her execution would have cut through both Titan and human, effectively killing both. It was a depressing thought, but it helped Armin gain a better understanding of what had happened and why.

“He’s alright though,” Erwin suddenly said, breaking Armin out of his musing. “Still unconscious, and the nurses aren’t sure when he’ll wake up. But he’s stable, and I’m sure that’s the most we could ask for right now.”

Mikasa took a step forward, a bold move considering the people she was facing. “I want to see him,” she said firmly.

Erwin continued to smile and stepped aside, allowing Mikasa and Armin to pass him. He turned to Hanji after they had gone by. “If you would stay out here with us for a moment, Dr. Zoe, there’s a few things we have to discuss.” And with that, he shut the door, with Hanji’s disappointed whine being the last thing Armin heard.

Eren had a room to himself, although it was obvious that the space was meant for at least two more beds. The room smelled sterile, further evidenced with every surface having been cleaned to perfection, which was a fact that Armin was sure Levi appreciated. Eren’s bed was limited to the middle, surrounded by various pieces of machinery, most of them set up to monitor his state. Armin recognized a few devices, and finally found the one that monitored his heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and temperature. To his relief, everything was normal, save for a heightened temperature, but that was predictable.

After scanning the various monitors and screens, he finally looked at Eren. He had expected that seeing Eren as a human for the first time would be like meeting a stranger, but instead, it felt like he was seeing an old friend. His eyes were closed, a nasal cannula on his face, delivering an audibly steady flow of oxygen. Other than that, he was practically everything Armin had found himself picturing. His hair was just a little lighter in shade than that of his Titan’s, but virtually the same length. His skin was a light tan, unmarred by any scars or markings, save for the barest array of lines just under his eyes. Age-wise, it was hard to tell, but Armin guessed they were around the same age. It was difficult to tell from height either, as Eren was prone, but it was obvious that Eren was taller than Armin.

His observations were interrupted by a quiet, barely-stifled sob from Mikasa. Armin turned to her, seeing that one hand was over her mouth, the other clenched in the fringe of her scarf. Tears had welled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall.

“Is that him?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Wordlessly, she nodded. With shaky movements, she let herself down onto a chair beside Eren’s bed. The hand that covered her mouth now reached out and took her brother’s hand, gently gripping it.

“I thought about how it might have happened, since you showed him to me for the first time,” she said softly, her voice rough from crying. She sniffed, letting go of her scarf to wipe at her eyes with her sleeve. “I wondered if he changed because he was scared, or because he was injured. Maybe it was to protect himself, but he didn’t know how to change back.”

Armin nodded in silent agreement.

Mikasa didn’t look away from Eren, her thumb now rubbing back and forth across his knuckles. “I don’t know how he was able to do it. I might never know, but I’m alright with that,” she continued. “He’s alive and that’s all I need.”

He couldn’t agree with her more. The origin of Eren’s Titan form could very well have been shrouded in mystery forever. Even if there was no amount of testing that could reveal the truth, no way to decode the complex encryption that allowed Eren to change, Armin found that he felt no need to pursue it. It was beyond strange, elevated to levels of impossibility. And yet, after all of it, Armin felt that this would be the outcome.

He reached out and placed his hand on the side of Eren’s face. Eren’s skin was predictably warm, but was an enormous change in comparison to the scorching heat of the Titan. It meant that Eren was alive, was functioning at a human level at his core, just like Armin and Mikasa and all the people standing outside. He was among them now, and Armin felt that there was no way he could be happier than at that moment.

Suddenly, Eren’s eyelids twitched. It was subtle at first, but enough that Armin flinched back in surprise. He blinked once, then again, before finally opening his eyes. They were half-lidded, but there was no mistaking it. Eren’s irises were the same brilliant blue-green as Armin had remembered them to be. His eyes didn’t move at first, instead seeming to stare at some invisible point on the wall. Then, they turned to look at Mikasa, and then Armin.

Mikasa was standing at Armin’s side in an instant. Her hands gripped the railing of the bed, knuckles flaring white.

“...Eren?” she tried, her voice quiet as to not startle him.

Immediately, Eren looked at her. He stared at her for a long moment, seeming to take the sight of her in. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth twitched up. “Mikasa,” he whispered, voice gravelly from disuse, but definitely clear enough to discern what he said.

Mikasa smiled, tears already falling down her face, and nodded. “Yeah, it’s me,” she replied, taking his hand again. Armin could see Eren attempting to return the grip. Mikasa laughed, and then sniffed. Armin couldn’t help but smile as well, knowing exactly how she felt. He had first felt it when he had cried out of sheer happiness when he discovered how intelligent Eren was. Now he felt tears threaten to fall, even though there was a warmth in his chest incomparable to anything except for a blindingly glorious happiness.

Eren looked at him, his eyes fixed in concentration, but the barest of smiles still tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Armin,” he said, looking as pleased with himself as he could be.

Armin couldn’t find words to even communicate how he felt. Blinding happiness wasn’t enough, euphoria could begin to describe it, but even then, it was inadequate. In the end, he just nodded, finally feeling warm tears leaving tracks down his cheeks, and the muscles in his face becoming sore from grinning.

“Yes, Eren,” he managed. “It’s me.”

Eren looked at both of them again before smiling and closing his eyes and returning to a well-deserved sleep.

\---

Eren stayed in the hospital over a week before his discharge was even considered. His recovery time was remarkable which both Hanji and Armin believed was due to some residual effects of his Titan form. Every day, Armin and Mikasa were there, sitting at his bedside or nearby while nurses and doctors went in and out, checking charts and vitals while running him through some basic tests. Armin served as a good medical resource, deftly explaining any abnormalities in Eren’s bloodwork, or why his temperature never seemed to fall to something normal.

Throughout the week, Eren didn’t speak again. When he made an attempt, he would wince in pain, and any sound would be reduced to a staccato of whispery sounds that were nothing like when he addressed Mikasa and Armin. Armin worried over this until a doctor concluded that it was some temporary damage, and that with the right care, he would recover and be able to speak again. Armin wasn’t entirely sure if he would be able to, or how much of a grasp he had on the vocal aspects of speech and syntax outside of names. He understood what people said to him for the most part, but it was unknown if he could replicate it.

Otherwise, he seemed to grow stronger every day. A therapist would visit him twice a day, urging him out of bed and have him step onto the floor with shaky legs. Armin wondered how it felt to go from fifteen meters to average human height, and if that was the cause for his instability. He wasn’t clumsy, exactly, but he wasn’t agile or graceful either. That, Armin figured, would change with time.

There were a few things that still seemed foreign to Eren. Food was one of them. Armin realized that Eren probably had never eaten in his Titan form, and since his last human years, probably had forgotten a good deal about it. He understood how to use basic utensils, but flavor was obviously something surprising. After taking the first bite of anything, even something as bland as plain bread, Eren would sit there with it in his mouth, wide-eyed, glancing to Armin as if he had the answer to some unknown question that Armin couldn’t even guess at. It wasn’t that food was disgusting to Eren, especially as he seemed voracious at times, but it was confusing to someone who hadn’t had a need to eat it in what Armin guessed was nearly a decade.

Throughout the week, he received several visitors, as there was a joint decision between Erwin, Hanji, and some of the hospital authorities that Eren should only see a few people at a time, as to not overwhelm him. No one knew exactly how he would react to people, especially Levi who had wisely chosen to keep his distance, unsure how Eren would respond to the person who had nearly killed him.

Jean was the first real visitor aside from Mikasa and Armin. Eren didn’t really know him, and it would at least show how he would be with a stranger that wasn’t there only to take care of him. It would be his first introduction to a somewhat normal person.

He came in one early afternoon, just after a nurse brought lunch up to Eren’s room. Eren had been curiously picking at some vegetables on his plate (Armin found out that Eren was a tactile learner) when Jean walked in. At first, Eren was surprised, gaping up at Jean as though he were some strange creature instead of a human being.

Jean visibly felt awkward at first, his head tilted downward and not quite meeting Eren’s eyes. Then Mikasa took the liberty, thankfully, to introduce them.

“Eren, this is Jean Kirschstein. He’s a friend of ours,” she said.

Eren looked up at her before nodding and turning back to Jean with an expectant expression. Armin was thankful that he wasn’t reacting badly. Just like with everything else he had come into contact with that week, he was simply curious.

Finally, Jean seemed to ease up. A grin slowly made its way across his face as he met Eren’s wide-eyed stare with a casual one of his own. “So you’re TF-1505, huh?” he said. “Not quite how I remember you.”

Eren snorted and rolled his eyes, which caused Armin to smile. It was a relief, at least, that he had kept his sense of humor.

Jean stayed for a little over an hour, mostly talking to Armin and Mikasa about how Eren’s condition was progressing, but once in awhile making a joke at Eren’s expense. It was all in good humor, which fortunately was how Eren interpreted it. He usually responded to the jokes with a glare followed up quickly by a barely-concealed grin.

Two days later, Levi finally visited after Armin reported to him how Jean’s visit went. It wasn’t likely that Eren would lash out at Levi, or do anything out of the ordinary. Even so, Levi still entered the room with caution, and his posture was restrained, prepared for anything to suddenly change. As predicted, Eren stared at him with a mixture of wonder and confusion.

Levi gave him a long, steady look, saying nothing. If he was going to say something, Armin expected it to be profound, or at least something remotely thoughtful.

“Glad to see you’re a normal-sized brat now,” Levi said instead.

Surprisingly, Eren glared at him, which didn’t seem to disturb Levi in the least. Armin fretted over it for a moment, until Eren’s expression quickly shifted into a small smile.

“Thank you,” Eren replied, his voice soft, still as rough as it had been the first time he spoke. It surprised both Armin and Mikasa, but Levi just nodded in recognition.

It was deeper than that, Armin realized. Eren wasn’t just thanking Levi for the somewhat haphazard compliment, but for what he had done in the execution chamber. At least Eren knew that he wouldn’t have survived, or been in his current state if it wasn’t for Levi. Armin assumed his gratitude was far greater than he could vocalize, but a simple ‘thank you’ would have to do.

Levi inclined his head, but before he could respond, the door flew open. Hanji practically sprinted in, labcoat still on, a manic grin plastered across her face. “Sorry I’m late! I heard Eren was allowed visitors today, but mostly because I kept asking Erwin until he finally said I could come and stay for more than a few minutes! So I got _all_ of my work done early and came here as fast as I could! I think I confused the nurses a little, and I’m thinking the ‘you need a guest badge’ thing is probably more strictly enforced than I thought? But hey, they’ll get over it!”

Eren looked completely baffled, while Levi just looked more irritated than normal. “Why can’t you get your work done that fast _all the time_?” he quietly seethed, but was quickly drowned out by another Hanji-level outburst.

“Ah, Eren! You’re awake!” she cheered, going immediately to his bedside. Not mindful of the wires and tubes he was hooked up to, she quickly gathered him up in what would probably be considered a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve already seen you a few times, but you were unconscious so I consider _this_ our first formal introduction! Awesome, right?”

“Hanji, the boy can’t breathe,” Levi said, narrowing his eyes.

Indeed, Eren looked a bit anoxic, on top of being clearly startled. Reluctantly, Hanji let him go, but didn’t move from his side.

“Please, _please_ tell me that you remember who I am!” she said excitedly, grasping her hands in a prayer-like pose in front of her chest.

After taking in a few deep breaths, Eren glanced her over before nodding, smiling despite what had just happened. “Doctor Zoe,” he stated, careful of each syllable.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, appearing to resist the urge to hug him again.

It was an extremely good sign to Armin. Eren was speaking a little more, as well as becoming more comfortable with people. He recognized everyone who had been involved with his case, with various degrees of appreciation and affection. One of the things Armin had noticed was how often Eren looked at him, sometimes seeming to want to say something, but closing his mouth reluctantly in the end. It wasn’t so different from when he was a Titan, but now he had a chance to say whatever it was he had wanted to say for so long. Armin could certainly wait and give Eren the time he deserved.

Eren’s reaction to Hanji was far more hilarious. He watched her with some sort of stunned rapt attention as she hopped from foot to foot, relaying everything she remembered about him and how amazing he was and how he really was the first of his kind in history.

“I have so many questions for you! Like a thousand or a million or something like that but we’ll get to all of them eventually and--”

“ _Hanji_ ,” Levi said in a warning tone. “There’s a time and place for that, and it’s not now or here.”

“Right, sorry, recovery and everything,” Hanji returned, putting her hands up in surrender. Then, she leaned over to Eren and winked. “Just wait, though.”

The look of sheer horror on Eren’s face was enough to make Armin finally break into a laugh.

\---

While Eren was in the hospital, a series of debates went on pertaining to him. Of course, the prosecutors who had ordered his execution were both confused and enraged, immediately demanding another execution, saying that Eren now posed more danger as a human because of his potential. They went on a tirade for days, bringing it to the highest court where another debate began without Eren or Armin knowing about it.

Fortunately, there were many powerful people who were interested in Eren, and people like Erwin who not only was interested, but personally knew about him and the details of his case. In the end, it was decided that Eren would be kept in custody until a proper court session could be held. Erwin managed to hold it off until Eren had the ability to speak for himself, which would buy them plenty of time, so long as someone could affirm that he wasn’t capable of higher speech quite yet.

The matter soon turned to who would have custody. Many people considered Eren highly dangerous, regardless of Erwin and several others insisting that Eren really had never posed a threat, even when he had been a Titan. Eren’s file was shown to Zacklay, along with other evidence, and the decision was left to him. Zacklay determined that indeed, Eren didn’t pose much danger as long as he was in capable hands, and so gave Erwin custody, as his group was already familiar with the case. Erwin left the court with his back to a wild uproar of debate.

After news of Eren’s pending discharge reached him, he immediately knew who would be in charge of Eren until the next court session.

It was how Eren ended up in the front room of Armin’s house, dressed in clothes courtesy of Hanji, with a bag slung over his shoulder containing the rest of what she had given him. His hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, as Mikasa had questioned how well he would handle the sight of something sharp like scissors. He stared up at the light fixtures, down to the floor tiles, and around to every piece of furniture and every decoration in his line of vision.

“House...” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Armin replied, hovering around Eren nervously. “It’s my house.”

There were hundreds of things to consider once news had reached Armin that he was to be Eren’s legal guardian for a temporary amount of time. First, Armin hadn’t lived with another person for years. After his grandfather died, he had been left to raise himself for a time, using what money his family had left him. Scholarships had helped him live away from the dormitories at school, and he had been able to provide for himself since then. He had become so accustomed to being alone that suddenly having someone rely on him was an entirely different change of pace.

He also had to consider how well Eren would adjust. The size difference was one thing, but Eren had gone from living in a closed container for an undetermined amount of time to suddenly living in an actual house. He was even holding still as though he was afraid to break anything.

“It’s alright,” Armin assured. “You live here now, so you don’t have to be afraid to move around.”

That did little to assure Eren, but at least he took a step forward, flinching at the sound of his own footstep.

Armin suddenly remembered how comforting his own voice was to Eren when he was still a Titan, completely content to listen to him ramble or read out loud, even if he didn’t completely understand what Armin was talking about. He wondered if it would help now.

“You’ll be staying in my room until I can... well, clear out the room that was _supposed_ to be a guest bedroom, but it’s full of books now,” Armin explained, gesturing up the stairs to the second floor. The sight of the stairs alone made him wonder how well Eren would handle them. “I’ll get you a bed and a dresser and anything else you might need. You can even pick out decorations, if you want! That doesn’t sound too bad, right?”

Slowly, Eren shook his head. Of course, Armin had no idea if he was following along at all, but it seemed to be having the right effect on him. His shoulders dropped a little from their defensive position, and his hands loosened their grip on the strap of his bag.

It was going to be a long process, but Armin didn’t find himself dreading it or being agitated about it. In fact, he couldn’t have been happier. Eren was with him, alive and well, confused but willing to learn. All the time that Armin had wished that things would be better for Eren, that they would mutually be happy, finally seemed to be coming true. There was the one thing that went unsaid, but Armin knew that it wasn’t the right time to approach it. There were thousands of other things Eren needed to learn and remember, and even though he had shown an understanding of Armin’s feelings, it wasn’t a sure thing that he would understand them now, as his senses and general mindset were being assaulted from every direction by the sheer newness of everything.

\---

Mikasa found out that Eren had moved in with Armin the next day, and immediately showed up at his door the first chance she got, which just so happened to be mid-morning, after Armin had tried to make Eren’s first actual breakfast. In retrospect, scrambled eggs might not have been the best choice, as Eren found some sort of strange delight in squishing them until they were flat, rather than eating them. Toast, on the other hand, was obviously a favorite, with Eren ravenously working his way through six separate slices, and then looking at Armin beseechingly for more.

Fortunately, Mikasa knocked on the door right before Armin felt cornered into getting the loaf of bread out again. When he answered it, it was obvious that she wasn’t going to waste any time.

“I’m moving in with you,” she said by way of greeting.

Armin gaped at her, unsure if he was in some strange half-asleep state that was causing him to hallucinate. “Wh-what?”

“Eren’s staying here. So am I.”

In all honesty, he should have predicted it. Mikasa was just as attached to Eren as he was, and so there was no way she could let it go quietly. She had her brother back, and she was absolutely keen on not losing him twice.

However, that meant that things were going to get much more cramped, as Armin felt that there was no denying her.

Evidently, he had stayed quiet too long for her tastes. “I took a temporary leave of absence at the military, and said it was a family emergency. So, I’m moving in.”

“You, uh, you might have to sleep on the couch,” he replied, still a little stunned. That was where he was planning on sleeping, but Armin was a gracious host, even if it was long-term hospitality.

“Fine,” she replied.

Armin couldn’t find himself becoming angry about it, although he was still incredibly surprised. As she walked by him and he closed the door behind her, all he could think about was that, in a way, he was getting a family.

\---

After a few days, Armin planned out a rough schedule for Eren. In the morning (typically punctuated by a backache from Armin sleeping in the living room chair), he would make Eren breakfast, attempting to give him some variety partially to broaden Eren’s culinary horizons, but also to learn what foods Eren liked. Luckily, Eren wasn’t picky. It was also helpful that Mikasa helped make breakfast on some days, although her food preparation style obviously had some military lineage, but Eren didn’t seem to mind.

After breakfast, Armin would push Eren upstairs to the bathroom, and repeatedly give him a basic rundown of how the bath worked. Somehow, Eren seemed baffled by the concept, as he hadn’t had a need to bathe in a long time, and like eating, it was possible that he had forgotten about it. Regardless, he would do it, albeit reluctantly. Only twice had the water been too hot, and one time, Armin went upstairs to check on Eren, only to find half of the water out of the tub and Eren sitting on the edge, covered in soap suds and looking bewildered. He could only shrug when Armin asked what had happened.

Drying Eren off and dressing him was another ordeal entirely. Clothes were a conundrum still, and Eren wasn’t sure how many layers he needed, or what clothes went with what kind of weather, or what matched and didn’t match. If he was allowed to dress himself, he would more often than not come down the stairs in some mismatched disaster of inside-out clothing, only to be ushered back up the stairs by Mikasa, who would thankfully fix it.

Once he looked halfway decent, Armin would then give Eren a vocabulary lesson. The lessons typically lasted an hour, sometimes longer when Eren would be particularly interested. He enjoyed learning new words and phrases, and after learning some, would go around the house, pointing at things and attempting to use these words in context. After Armin had taught him ‘wood’ and ‘wooden’, Eren found everything in the house that was made of wood, for instance running to get Mikasa to show her that the banister on the staircase was wooden.

Every now and then, Armin would attempt a conversation with Eren, knowing in the back of his mind that this skill was what Erwin had intended for Eren to learn once Armin was given custody of him. He would have to speak for himself in court in a conversational setting. Even so, Armin tried to ignore that fact, focusing on simple conversation instead.

“Now, when you _care_ about something,” he explained one day. “It means you like it. I think you remember that, right?”

Eren dutifully nodded, whispering a quiet ‘yes’ of affirmation.

“And there’s lots of ways to say you care about things. There’s... well, different types, I suppose. You like things, love, adore, cherish, admire. In a way, they all mean the same thing, but different words evoke different feelings. Do you understand?”

Eren paused for consideration, his eyes drifting to the right as he mused on what Armin had said. Then, slowly, he nodded. It meant that he somewhat understood, but Armin could definitely clarify it.

Armin gestured to his mantlepiece, where a long wooden pipe sat propped up against a ceramic vase. “Alright, see that pipe? That was my grandfather’s. I _cherish_ it, because it was his, and he’s gone now, so it’s even more important to me,” he explained. “Same with the vase. It was my grandmother’s, and she _cherished_ it because it was expensive, and also because it was a gift from my grandfather, who bought it because he _loved_ her. Do you understand that?”

Immediately, Eren nodded, staring at the pipe and vase. “Cherish,” he repeated, pointing at them.

“Right,” Armin affirmed. “You can care for objects _and_ people. You can _like_ people, which means you care for them, but it’s not as big as _love_. It’s the same with _adore_. Adoring someone means you like them a lot more than _just_ liking them.”

“Like Mikasa,” Eren added.

Armin grinned. “Yes, Mikasa _adores_ you, and she also _loves_ you, because you’re her brother. It means she cares about you more than just liking you.”

The smile on Eren’s face definitely showed that he understood it, and that he enjoyed the concept. “I _adore_ Mikasa,” he said, obviously proud of himself.

“And you should tell her that. People like to hear about other people liking them. It makes them feel good about themselves,” Armin continued.

Eren seemed to consider this before he looked at Armin, his expression strangely serious. “I _love_ you,” he said.

Armin hadn’t really been expecting it, and while he wanted to accept it, he knew it was a mistake of wording, and that he should have clarified it better. “I think you mean ‘care’ or ‘like’. Love is a very strong word,” he said, smiling despite himself.

Eren looked confused, and shook his head. “No, I _love_ you. _Love_ Mikasa. _Love_ you.”

He meant it. The seriousness etched on his face, formed by his furrowing brow, the determined look in his eyes, all indicated that he knew exactly what he was saying. Mikasa was important to him, and he understood how much she cared for him, how protective she was, how invested in his future and their future together. It was definitely a brand of love that Eren recognized, and made sense of out of memories of Mikasa’s care for him. Armin realized that Eren saw Armin’s actions and feelings as something similar. It was love, and it seemed that as far as Eren was concerned, that was the only word for it.

Right when Armin was about to reason it out as being purely familial, Eren moved across the space between them, embracing Armin and drawing him in as close as he could. His warmth was practically radiant, and Armin couldn’t help but lean into it, drawn in by that very same emotion that had caused him to lean against Eren on the last day they had together at the facility.

“I love you, too,” he muttered against Eren’s shoulder, finally reaching around to return the embrace. There were tears pricking at his eyes, accompanied by an overwhelming need to just _be_ with Eren. It was beyond Eren staying with him until the next court date, and far beyond some temporary idea like custody. There would come a time when Eren would be capable of caring for himself, making decisions based on his own opinions and feelings. His progress was already astoundingly fast, so it was inevitable.

But Armin wanted Eren to stay on his own volition. He wanted to be by Eren’s side, to stay with him out of a mutual care. Even if Eren wouldn’t be reliant on him anymore, he still wanted to provide for him. It was ridiculous, maybe a little childish, but at that moment, Armin didn’t care.

“Stay with me,” he said, unsure why he had chosen to. He had practically trained himself to keep his emotions and feelings at bay, but they suddenly had a life of their own, betraying him in the worst way possible. Yet he couldn’t find himself accusing them of anything.

Eren stayed quiet, tucking his face against the junction between Armin’s neck and shoulder. “Yes,” he whispered back.

\---

Eventually, the guest room-turned-temporary-library was cleaned out, Armin hesitantly going through his books and choosing which ones were destined for storage and which ones he wanted to keep out. It took nearly two days of sorting and moving, with Mikasa occasionally poking her head in when she seemed to sense that Armin was being indecisive. She would give the covers of the books a rudimentary glance before staring at him. “Are you _absolutely_ going to read them again?” she asked, but it was clear she wasn’t leaving him any room to argue.

In the end, most of the room was cleared out, and his storage was filled with several boxes worth of books. Mikasa and Armin took Eren with them to shop for furniture, even if he wasn’t completely capable of choosing anything. It was a chance to get him out into some sort of social situation.

At first, crowds made him nervous. He didn’t enjoy having to dodge and wind around people, and he quickly learned how to apologize after running into a few. After awhile, he began to get accustomed to it, and became more focused on the things they were shopping for rather than the people around them.

Money was another thing that Armin had to teach Eren about. It was somewhat difficult for him to associate numbers with denominations of currency, and he would often look and coins and bills with confusion, his eyes darting between them and price tags. When they bought a dresser, he watched Mikasa hand over the money, quietly asking her why she gave the salesperson only a few pieces of paper.

“It’s the numbers on the paper that are important,” she explained.

He also tried to reason out why the salesperson gave her some money back. It didn’t make sense to him why she would give him money for an object, and then get different money in return. When she explained that she had given the salesperson too much money in order to make it easier, he just groaned in confusion and opted to follow Armin around instead.

It was a long process, but they eventually got Eren a dresser, a bed, a mirror (he liked to look at his own reflection whenever he got a chance), and a lamp. Armin figured he would add decorations as they went along, as up to that point, Eren had wanted nearly everything that looked like a decoration. He had asked to buy a vase (“Like your grandmother’s,” he said solemnly), wind chimes, three different clocks, a painting of a man standing beside a sheep, and a piece of convoluted glass that had no real apparent design. They had allowed him the wind chime, since it would keep him occupied.

However, the concept of having his own room seemed confusing as well. He stood in the doorway of it, peering in before looking back at Armin.

“It’s yours,” Armin said, and then gestured to his room. “You borrowed my room. But now you have your own.”

“Your room...” Eren muttered, and glanced back towards Armin. “I want to stay there.”

Armin frowned at him, shaking his head. “This is _your_ room now, Eren,” he stressed. It was possible that Eren just couldn’t quite distinguish that he was being made to move, but for some reason, he doubted that Eren was more intelligent than that.

Eren practically turned on heel, making his way back to Armin’s room with Armin chasing after him in vain. As soon as Eren went in, he promptly sat down on Armin’s bed, staring up at Armin as if challenging him to tell Eren otherwise.

“Eren, we bought all of those things for you!” Armin tried, becoming flustered. “You’re not just going to let them go to waste, are you?”

“No,” Eren replied shaking his head. “Mikasa can stay.”

Sighing, Armin sat on the bed next to him, feeling for all the world as if he was a parent having to explain something to a child. “Mikasa can’t stay in _your_ room. It’s not hers. Both of us agreed on that. Do you understand?”

Eren rolled his eyes as if Armin was saying the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes,” he said.

“So, you understand that the room is meant for you, and that my room is meant for _me_.”

“Yes.” 

“Then all you have to do is stay in there like you stayed in here. That’s simple enough, right?”

“Yes,” Eren said, but he had clearly gone back into whatever stubborn mode he had been in before. “I want to stay in here,” he finished, even going as far as to cross his arms over his chest.

Baffled, and definitely at the end of his rope, Armin just stared at him. “Why?”

Again, Eren looked as though it was obvious. “I want to stay in here, with _you_ ,” he said.

Armin blinked, trying to run it through his head again. “You want to... what?”

Eren let out a long-suffering sigh, and Armin couldn’t help but feel as though the parent-child positions had been turned around. “I want _you_ in here with _me_ ,” Eren said, stressing the syllables as strongly as he could. Then, he looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, a common pose he had started to take when he attempted to come up with the right words for something. When he looked back at Armin, Eren had appeared to reach a conclusion. He reached out and took one of Armin’s hands, gently grasping it. “I want you here,” he added in a much quieter voice.

Through all of Armin’s doubts about how much Eren would remember, or how Eren would really feel about him, it was now so plainly obvious that there was no possibility that Armin could deny it again. After Eren had said that he loved him, he tried to excuse it, tried to think of any other meaning to it just so he wouldn’t get his hopes too high if Eren ever shown or said that he hadn’t meant it in that way. It had been a bad habit Armin had developed, so unsure of how things would progress after the threat of execution, the moment he had realized that even if something felt permanent, it could very easily be taken away. It was the same reason why he had been so hesitant to make his feelings known again, in case something did go wrong in the court, or another disaster befell them and Armin would be left with nothing.

But after all that had happened, after he had risen and fallen away from his resolution, from the inner strength provided to him by people like Christa, Mikasa, Levi, and Eren, it felt like some traitorous action to hide away from it all now and pretend that nothing had happened. It wouldn’t be fair to Eren.

So, once again, and certainly not for the last time, he gave in. He leaned in and kissed Eren, not pressing his lips to a span of over-heated skin, but direct human contact, the way he had sometimes dreamed of doing. He could feel Eren stiffen, more than likely surprised, and possibly perplexed over the action. Armin had read stories about princes and princesses, so it wasn’t that Eren was completely unfamiliar with the concept, but he probably had never seen it done, save for when he was very young.

Then, Eren kissed him back. It was predictably clumsy, with Eren attempting to mimic everything Armin did. Like everything else Eren did, he tried as hard as he could to be perfect. One of his hands moved up to Armin’s jaw, fingers nervously tracing a spot just under his ear. He was unsure, and Armin could completely understand. They had to go slowly, allow time for Eren to adjust and learn. Then again, Armin needed that as well. It was almost laughable, realizing that both of them essentially had the same level of experience.

When Armin finally pulled away, Eren let out a low whine, strangely similar to a sound he had made as a Titan. He was quietly panting, his cheeks flushed, his eyes misted over, but he seemed so pleased with himself, so ethereally happy with the situation that it was difficult for Armin not to kiss him again. Armin still stayed close, one hand resting on Eren’s waist, the other propping himself up even as his muscles strained.

“I’ll stay,” he whispered, moving his hand up so that his fingers carded through Eren’s hair. “As long as you want me to, I’ll be right here.”

Eren nodded, leaning against Armin even though he didn’t need the support. He just wanted contact, and Armin was more than happy to oblige.

\---

One night, while Mikasa slept in the guest room, Armin was quietly curled up beside Eren, his fingers tracing a long vein that went down Eren’s forearm. It wasn’t like it had been when Eren was a Titan. There weren’t as many lines to trace, or as many colors to try to give names to, but the feeling hadn’t changed. Eren was still gloriously complex, filled to the brim with possibilities just waiting to be revealed. He was still a miracle, breaking down every barrier that Armin had built for himself with the intention of defining possibility. He was still the greatest thing that had ever happened to Armin.

Weeks had passed, and Eren had started to speak more eloquently, using turns of phrase, metaphors, similes, hyperboles, and everything else that spoke volumes of his humanity. It was also a countdown, as every word and phrase he learned brought them a little closer to the day where Eren would have to face Zacklay along with all the people who had demanded his execution, but also the people that had been at his side the entire time.

The room was quiet save for the soft sounds of their breathing. It turned out that if Eren slept by himself, he was often plagued with nightmares. He couldn’t properly explain them, sometimes unsure of what they really were. It made Armin want to stay with him even more, to try to completely banish anything that caused Eren to be afraid. It would take some time, but at least Armin didn’t consider things to be impossible anymore.

Eren suddenly shifted beside him, turning to face him even in the limited light.

“Armin?” he said softly.

“Hmm?”

He was silent for a moment, one hand coming up to touch Armin’s, his fingers stroking over his knuckles. “There’s something I wanted to say for a long time,” he finally replied.

Images of Eren’s Titan form opening and closing his jaw, becoming frustrated, trying to hard to speak, all flashed through Armin’s mind. But he stayed quiet, nodding to indicate that Eren could continue.

“I guess I... I didn’t really have words for it before. And, when I was a Titan, I didn’t _need_ words. I could just think about things and they would make sense. I only really started trying to think of the right words for things when you started speaking to me in the first place,” he said.

“I think I get it,” Armin quietly responded.

“So you’re not going to be mad if I get this wrong, right?” Eren asked.

Armin laughed, shaking his head. “Why would I be mad?”

He couldn’t see it, but Armin was sure Eren was blushing. He turned his face toward the pillow and sighed. “Because it’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not.”

Another sigh, but Eren continued. “You just mean a lot to me. I know you explained how that works to me, about people caring for things, or loving other people, but I don’t really have a _word_ for what this is. Does that make any sense?”

It made complete sense, and Armin was now sure that he was blushing as well despite himself. “If it helps,” he replied. “My grandfather once said that when you’re with someone you really love, sometimes it’s hard to define how you feel. He said it’s like having a... soulmate, I think it was.”

“That sounds right.”

“Is that what you’re trying to say?”

He could hear the smile in Eren’s voice. “Not completely. It’s even more than that. It just sort of... happened. I had seen a lot of people before you, but no one stuck out. No one _appeared_ like you. That’s not the right word, but it was like everyone else was blurry, and you were the only person who was clear. I didn’t know why, and I still don’t. It was just like everything before you was like this long dream, like how you dream and you wake up and you can’t remember what you dreamed about.”

“I know how that feels,” Armin whispered. He could feel an almost pleasant ache in his chest, and it made him edge closer to Eren so that he could feel Eren’s warm breath ghost over his cheek.

“It was just like that. You made everything make sense.”

Armin was now pressed against Eren, one arm over his waist, head just under Eren’s chin. He smiled, closing his eyes. “I think I know what you mean,” he replied.

Eren snorted, wrapping his arms around Armin. “One day, I’ll be able to explain it better.”

“I know you will.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, and Armin turned his head so that his ear was pressed to Eren’s chest. The warmth was just as comforting, and he believed that he could never be more content than he was in that moment. It was like another dream, with sunlight warming his face, and the boy, the only boy he was sure he would ever need, standing silhouetted in the light with the sun like a halo.

Armin fell asleep to the steady rhythm of Eren’s heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just to add, I saw that a lot of people had some really good questions about some things in the fic that I left open. Honestly, it was so hard not to answer the ones I knew for certain that I was going to cover! At this point, if there's any other questions you have, or anything you would just like to talk about, I'd love to hear it! I'm more likely to answer them on my Tumblr (radiojamming, for anyone who hasn't caught it in the other chapters yet) than on here, mostly because there's a delay between when I get notifs from AO3, and not so much on Tumblr.
> 
> Thank you all again! I'm now just going to sit here and make happy whimpering noises.
> 
> Love,  
> DJ


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